Untold Tales
by Clairavance
Summary: This coincides with my DMC fanfiction. Cut scenes. Welcome to my world.
1. FSC: Cheri

**Author's Note:**

**If you want it to be good, you've got to cut out and shove some scenes aside to benefit the overall anecdote. It hurts because some of it is good (and some of it isn't, and that's a bitter pill to swallow) and you've spent hours poring over them, moulding them into tiny puzzle pieces that would fit perfectly, only to find that your most valuable scenes don't make the cut for the end roll.**

**These are those scenes. Some are fleshed out, some are not; you'll be able to see the influence some of them had on the events and scenes that did make it into the actual fic.**

**_Scene 1_  
Takes place when Kyrie calls Nero home and tells him Yamato pitched up. He lost Yamato?! you gasp. In the original version of the fic, yes, although it was more a case of it being stolen from him than him losing it. It was also my first encounter with my OC, whom is the daughter of Sparda. You'll know her as Ali in the fic. Here, on first appearance, she's referred to as Cheri, and comes forth as a bit too headstrong – the stereotype little sister similar to so many other fangirls's versions. Don't worry, she's undergone a major transformation. You guys will like her in the fic (I breathed some personality into her for you guys ;)**

**_Reason this scene was cut_: Cheri. I didn't like her at all. Didn't like the way she spoke to Vergil, didn't like the way she took charge, didn't like her introduction to me – and if I didn't like her, I doubt any of you guys would either. Also, Enji had no name at this point and I very creatively referred to him as Bee. (ha ha ha ha)**

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Nero stepped into the familiar warmth of his home. Kyrie met him at the door, her usually placid features creased with a concerned frown.

"Where is it?" Nero asked, closing the door quietly behind him. He allowed Kyrie to slide his coat off his shoulders, deep ocean blue eyes warily darting about the narrow hallway.

"They're in the lounge," Kyrie said timidly, turning to hang his coat in the closet. "I don't understand what's going on, but maybe you do."

"Kyrie?" Nero questioned in a hushed voice, pausing uncertainly to look at her.

Kyrie motioned to the lounge nervously, and Nero went to linger cautiously on the threshold to the spacious room. He wasn't surprised to see Bee sitting on his plush white couch. The boy was leaning forward and clutching Yamato in both hands. Nero was, however, caught off guard by the young beauty sitting right next to him. The girl's hair was the same silvery blonde as Bee's, and her features struck a sense of déjà vu in him.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw him. "We came straight here when he got home with it. I swear, he's the biggest idiot to walk the earth," she rambled off and gave Bee a silent, expectant glance.

Bee looked back at her slowly. For a moment they stared at one another, and then Bee spoke in a pleading tone. "We need this, Cheri."

"It's not for you to decide!" The girl shot back. "Say you're sorry!"

"No."

Cheri snatched Yamato from his hands and turned to hold it toward Nero in a sort of peace offering. "I'm sorry. I don't know what possessed him, he can't even use it..."

"Yes I can." Bee cut in.

"No, shut up! You can't, okay! You'll just end up hurting yourself." Cheri snapped, and looked at Nero apologetically. "You're not going to call the police, are you?"

"No. No, I'm not," Nero said carefully, accepting Yamato. He looked from Bee to Cheri. "How about some hot coco?"

The kids relaxed and accepted the offer. Nero nodded at Kyrie to keep them company, and went to the phone mounted on the wall down the corridor. He punched in Dante's number, turning toward the lounge when he heard slightly nervous laughter come from it.

The ringing cut off with a "Whaddya want, Nero?" grunted into his ear.

"Bee?" Nero tested the name, stunned.

"Hmm? Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?"

"No. Is your dad home?"

There was a muffled sound on the other line, and then Dante's voice slipped through the receiver. "We're watching Krusty Demons, so you'd better make this good, kid."

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Bee's mother." Nero said boldly.

"Agh, this shit again? I told you I don't know who the hell she is. For all we know, Bee's just another discarded toy Mundus created and got tired of playing with." Dante drawled.

"That's not funny," Bee's voice came in the background.

"Do you think there's any chance of Bee...having a brother?" Nero asked, staring at the entrance to the lounge.

"Oh shit, I hope not." Dante actually laughed. "One of Bee is more than enough."

**

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**

--- The last line is an inside joke between me and Vergil. Another of my ironic moments.


	2. FSC: Devil Origins

**Author's Note:  
**_**Scene 2**_**  
The original baked beans episode. I intended it to be Enji's discovery of their healing properties, but then I ended up writing that chapter where he has that nasty fall at school and Dante is called in.**

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**

"That was a rush," Dante said, beaming from ear to ear as he strolled over to the desk. He put his guns down, and settled into his chair with a happy smile. "Let's go out and celebrate another good job."

His smile faded, scowled when he saw Enji struggling with a can opener and can. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to open this stupid thing." Enji growled back.

Dante watched him for another moment. "Alright. Gimme, I'll do it." He said with resignation.

Enji nearly threw the can at him.

"Baked beans?" Dante frowned.

"On toast," Enji said. "If we can get the damn thing open."

"Well, that's what dads are for, I guess. Seeing as yours is too much of a wuss to man it up, I'll have to deal with it." Dante muttered.

"Seen him around lately?" Enji asked, watching Dante fight with the can.

"Only in the mirror," Dante ground out. "He won't come to the shop. Think he's afraid I'll kick hiss ass."

"Trish says you're delusional."

"Trish doesn't know shit."

"Forget it. There's nothing more humiliating than losing a fight with an inanimate object," Enji shrugged. "We'll go for pizza."

"I'll get it...just...there's something wrong with this..." Dante gritted his teeth. The can opener slipped. Dante's blue eyes widened, startled when blood scattered across the desk. They both stared at the deep gash along his thumb before Dante grabbed the can and smashed it onto the table. Baked beans splattered. "Damn it!"

"It's healing!" Enji exclaimed, grabbing Dante's hand in shocked amazement.

"Yeah, so? You know we're half demon."

"Healing comes with the package?"

"Sure does. That stung like hell, though," Dante grumbled.

"Cut me." Enji ordered.

"Don't be stupid. I'm not cutting you."

"Dante, c'mon. How else will we know if I'm like you or not?"

"It's in the gene pool, trust me."

"Either you do it, or I do it."

"Not going to happen kid. How about that pizza?"


	3. FSC: Family Talk

**Author's Note:  
_Scene 3_  
This was a draft that needed some serious rewriting to make the dialogue flow better. In the original fic, Sparda aka The Wimp played a very important but very small role in the fic (he was captured along with Eva by Mundus), thus everyone had very fully believed Dante was Enji's father. Everyone except for Dante, of course. He was convinced Enji was Vergil's kid.**

**My original plot was to have Vergil and Dante separated for as long as possible, until Vergil comes to Dante for help when Eva and Sparda are taken by Mundus, and then with their power combined, along with Nero and Enji's, they whip some butt. That's the major spoiler for the original. Obviously, this has changed, since the last chapter I updated in Futile Second Chance was not planned at all, was not supposed to go down that way at all (Vergil was only supposed to come into the friggin fic in chapter 20 something), and basically killed my carefully laid out plans. That's what happens when you allow the characters to reign free range. *Damn Dante***

**_Reason this scene was cut_: It no longer fits with the plot. Because I've got an even better plot to follow now :) And I didn't get Dante OR Enji's characters right, so this chapter was total fail for me.**

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**

"I need to talk to you," Enji said when the door closed behind Emily.

"Oh no, here we go," Dante taunted. "Listen Enji..."

"No, you listen. Can you wipe that smirk off your face and be serious for a change?"

"Oh. I take it this isn't anything to do with girls."

"Like you could tell me anything I don't already know," Enji snorted. "I want you to tell me about my mom."

"Tch, damn, Enji. I don't know who she is."

"It's just... I have this memory from when I was a kid," Enji frowned. "And... Trish and I were at the carnival. And she bought me candy floss and...I don't know. Just the way she looked at me and talked to me was... like she was my mom."

"You went to the carnival without me? When was this?"

"Before I started school. And you were there. Trish snuck me away."

"You mean when I lost you that one time?" Dante frowned. "Trish was in Fortuna, wasn't she? She didn't come with us."

"Well, she was there. I even went on the bumper cars with her, and before she pointed me to you, she held onto me and told me she loved me."

"Touching." Dante said.

"She hasn't given me the same vibes since, but I always wondered what my real mom is like."

"Look Enji..."

"Just point me in the right direction. You don't have to face her yourself, but I have a right to know her!"

"Sure you do, but I'm not your dad..."

"Oh, you're not?" Enji fumed. "Or are you only when it suits you?"

"Hey now look here, Enji, I pay out of my ass to take care of you..."

"If I'm such a damn burden, why don't you just kick me out then? I'm not your kid ,so why should you give a shit?"

Dante bristled. "You're playing with fire, kid."

"What? Is that supposed to scare me off? I deserve to know the truth, damn it!"

"You want the truth, kid? Your father was consumed by his greed for ultimate power. He stepped over anyone that got in his way – he even ran me through with a sword when I tried to stop him."

Enji quietened down.

Dante carried on. "He ended up becoming the bitch of the dumbass that killed our mother and father. And then I killed him. He never had a high opinion on mortals, so chances are he used your mother as a sacrifice on his venture to gain more power."

"That's what you know?" Enji asked quietly.

"That's what I believe," Dante shot back.

Sat silently, thinking it over. "That's some sick shit, isn't it?" Enji muttered.

"Don't I know it," Dante said.


	4. FSC: Vergil

**Author's Note:  
**_**Scene 4**_**  
Follow up to Scene 1.**

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Dante slowed his pace as he approached Nero's apartment. The porch light was on, the front door open, and Nero and Kyrie were standing outside on the midnight damp grass, talking to a young girl and a boy. A boy that looked almost exactly like...

Dante rounded on them, squinting through the shadows of night at the kid as he drew closer. That was definitely Bee. The blonde hair, the straight god-like nose, the clenched jaw. The light blue eyes moved and fixed on Dante, and he stopped in his tracks. Not possible. He'd left Bee gulfing down the last of their ice cream stash in front of his favourite TV show no more than five minutes ago. This couldn't be Bee, but it couldn't not be him either, because that would mean...

The boy balked at the sight of Dante. "Dad?"

Dante's scowl deepened. "Bee?"

The girl turned several shades paler than she already was, and grabbed Bee's arm. "That's Dante! Run for it!"

Bee spun around quickly, unexpectedly slamming the heel of his hand into Nero's nose and wrenching Yamato from his grasp. Kyrie gasped in surprise when Nero staggered back, clutching his nose, and Cheri and Bee bolted in the opposite direction of Dante.

"Dumbass!" Cheri hollered at Bee angrily.

Nero had recovered fast, and was right on Cheri's heels before either kid could hasten their pace. He seized her by the shoulder, yanking her back to a stumbling halt. Cheri lost her balance and nearly fell, but Nero caught her firmly by the arm, and didn't let go.

Dante was already starting after the boy and ran past Nero just as Cheri shrieked in breathless terror. "No... you can't do this! Stop him! Stop Vergil!"

The name alone sparked Dante's feet into a higher speed. With a sly trickster move, he placed himself in the direct path of the fleeing kid, whom ran into him hard enough to make them both crash to the ground.

**....tarum tarum tarum... **

Dante takes them to the office to suss out what the hell is going on.

"So if you're like my brother, then where's my... our mom?" Bee demanded.

"In trouble." Vergil said flatly.

"Shut up, Vergil," Cheri barked and swatted him on the head. "You've gotten us into enough trouble as it is."

**Yeah, I really didn't like the original Ali. Bleah. Outline for the rest of this chapter had been:**

- Dante asks Cheri where her parents are and offers to help them out.

-Once in private, Cheri informs Dante about a prediction made, and Eva and Sparda's plan that backfired

-Parents are overprotective of Vergil – needs guidance. Knew Bee would turn out fine because he's the stronger of the brothers. Demons wouldn't attack him under Dante's care (**yeah right**) because of Dante's renowned rep. They couldn't protect both children, and they moved around a lot to cover their tracks. Cheri's a slipup (**what an understatement**)

-Bee and Vergil get along well (**um...yah, sure, whatever**)

-Dante gets the details about the situation, leaves kids in safe haven and sets out to rescue his parents (**cue superman theme song) Tarumtarumtarum...  
**  
_**Dante takes off his belt and snaps it through the air like a whip. "I think someone needs a good spanking."  
Clair runs like hell.............muahahaha.......**_


	5. FSC: Alibi? Hah!

**Author's Note:  
**_**Scene 5**_**  
Nero comes barging into Devil May Cry accusing Enji of stealing Yamato. A scene similar to this will be put in the fic at some stage, but this one in particular didn't make it because it would contradict what happened in the fic with Dante's meeting with teenage Vergil. But I really did like this chapter (insert disappointed author face here) Pity pity pity.**

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"He summoned Yamato from my hand!" Nero accused with a finger.

"Enji!" Trish turned to the flustered boy, puzzled.

"Not even I can do that," Dante stepped forward. "The only person capable of pulling that off is Vergil."

"And him!" Nero pointed at Enji angrily. "Give me back my sword, kid!"

"Dude, I don't _have_ it." Enji snapped back.

"Aha! See? Told you he's Vergil's kid," Dante whirled on Trish. "I told you I'm innocent."

"Dante," Trish said helplessly. "Not now."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, Enji, hand it over. I did entrust Yamato to Nero." Dante caved.

"_I don't have the damn sword!_" Enji exploded.

"Yeah you do! You took it from me! I have eye witnesses that can confirm it!" Nero erupted with equal fury.

"You need to get your eyes checked, buddy. I didn't take your stupid sword. What the hell would I want with it, anyway?" Enji growled.

"You got an alibi?" Trish asked.

"Yeah, I do as a matter of fact! I've been here all day studying with Emily."

"What were you studying? I don't remember any tests coming up," Trish frowned, confused.

"Just...stuff!" Enji's face flushed. "It doesn't matter what we were doing. Point is, I got an alibi!"

Dante made a snorting chuckle. Trish gave him a patient look. "He's too much like you, you know."

"Not my kid," Dante held his hands in surrender. "You're sure it was Enji, Nero?"

"Unless he's got a clone walking around." Nero glared.

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**...Followed by a BIG fight between Enji and Nero, until Dante intervenes and once again OWNS Nero's pansy little glowy arm. **


	6. FSC: Hotness!

**I really liked this chapter.**  
**REALLY liked this chapter. I actually got Enji's character right.**  
**Words can't express how broken I am that it didn't make the cut.**  
**This is Enji's first meeting with Ali. It's all dramatic...but it was too dramatic. The new version of how they meet is a bit more mellow and in tune with the characters.**  
**...tch, I missed half an episode of Dexter writing this...I am very burnt about this one :(  
It was originally meant to be chapter 18.**

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Lightning slashed through the sky like a mad streak of white paint across a black canvas. The ear-shattering sound evoked a startled yelp from Emily beside him. Enji grabbed hold of her hand and put his head down, fastening their pace down the street. Icy rain pelted down on them almost bruising hard. What the hell was up with the funny weather lately?  
They reached her building and jogged up the stairs to the second floor, both out of breath and drenched to their shoes.

"I think a hot cup of coco is in order," Emily sniffled.

Enji grunted his agreement, watching his new Reebok sneakers across the granite floor and listening to the sloshing sound emanating from his every step. He looked up when Emily cursed under her breath, and she shrugged past him.

Her mother was standing right outside their apartment door, dressed in a white hounds-tooth suit, gesturing with arms adorned with clinking bracelets.

"I forgot, Enji," Emily said apologetically over her shoulder. "My friend is moving in with us today."

Enji halted in his tracks, disappointment running down his features. "Damn it, Em. We've been planning today for weeks!"

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Emily lifted her shoulders, but he could see she didn't really mean it. She was too excited to really care about his feelings. Shit – now he was going to be stuck with a third wheel. Enji knew what Emily and her girl friends got up to; painting their toenails, slapping mixtures of mud and bird shit on their faces and calling it some or the other latest beauty treatment. Enji cringed. He'd rather go home and chill out with Dante, as awkward as things were with them lately.

"I'll see you kids later," Emily's mom said when he reached the door. She flashed Enji the type of smile that would send any guy running in the opposite direction; that unnerving you'll-be-my-son-in-law-yet smile. Enji couldn't force his facial muscles to return the smile.

Emily skipped ahead, and Enji trailed behind her miserably. He shut the door behind them, and turned to face the stuffy, heated two bedroom apartment, ready with an excuse to hit the road before Emily could nag him to stay longer. He really didn't like the girls she hung out with. Not that there was anything wrong with them – they just didn't fancy him, which was an issue in his books.

Emily had already flicked on the kettle in the open-plan kitchenette. She was pulling three cups from the cupboard, a broad grin on her face.

"...settled in already, I totally forgot because Enji and I had plans for tonight. But I'm sure he won't mind your company," Emily was saying, and sent a sly glance at him. "We can reschedule for another night. He'll just need to get used to having you around."

"Don't worry about me," the timid response came. "If you guys need your privacy, go for it, I'll keep myself occupied."

"Don't be stupid, Ali. It's your first night here, and I want you and Enji to get along." Emily said.

Enji edged into the kitchenette, dripping water on the Spanish tiles, and did a double-take when the reason for their ruined evening came into view.

She was seated at the breakfast nook amid an army of dirty cups and bowls. Pale light embraced her delicate features from the laptop opened up in front of her, her sensual lips pursed together, and her regal nose was wrinkled up in a manner that dictated she wasn't that keen on company. She was running her hands through long hair the colour of silver velvet, but went still when her blazing blue eyes met his own. Recognition. Confusion.

"What are _you_ doing here?" She asked in dismay.

"You know each other?" Emily paused with a spoon dug into the sugar bowl, and stared from one to the other in surprise.

Enji couldn't tear his gaze from the girl. She was exceptionally beautiful, but there were vibes coming off her that he recognized. A demon with the face of an angel. A succubus in disguise? Had he had a run-in with her before on one of his and Dante's missions? Probably not – she'd be thoroughly dead if that were the case, or burning it up in hell. Maybe she just recognized who he was by the invisible rings of power he himself permeated; a descendant of Sparda. Weren't the demons hung up about smelling Sparda's blood in him and Dante and Nero?

"Well, yeah," the girl snorted and rose up. She was tall, slender, and when she rounded the breakfast nook to circle him slowly, he noted she was a good few years younger than him, too. "Actually..." the girl trailed off when she stopped face to face with him, and her eyes grew round in surprise. She stared at him, stumped. "_This_ is Enji?"

"Heard of me then?" Enji said coldly.

"Who hasn't?" the girl said with a snort, and turned her wide eyes on a suspicious Emily. "Nice catch, Em."

"Seriously, do you guys know each other?" Emily said suspiciously.

"Not personally." The girl said with a shrug. "He just reminds me of somebody I know," she said and turned an innocent, dimpled smile on Enji. "I'm Ali, by the way."

"What are you doing here?" Enji asked, not trusting her for one moment.

Emily looked embarrassed by his bluntness, but Ali took it in her stride. "My mom and dad were in a big fight, and my brother suggested I take a breather from our dysfunctional family for a while, until things calmed down and they got their issues ironed out." Her smile didn't waver once, and her gaze held his steadily. There was a spark of awe in their blue depths.

Enji had seen his fair share of demons, but none had ever looked at him so commendably, nor did they look all that excited to come face to face with him. They never talked about normal, human problems either. Her answer threw him, and Enji could only stare back at her helplessly. Kill her, or don't? Indecisiveness was a bitch.

"So?" Enji said dangerously, hovering over her and making use of his intimidating length. "Nobody has a perfect family – you should see the one I've got. Dysfunctional doesn't even touch it. Exactly why are you here, _Ali_?"

Ali didn't look flustered by his response, but Emily stepped in between them suddenly and wrapped her arms around the other girl protectively. "Ali got hurt really badly, and her brother cared enough to get her out of that abusive situation. Don't push it, Enji. Ali is my friend."

"I wasn't abused," Ali said in quiet horror. "It was an accident, I told you!"

"Did you know your friend is a demon?" Enji said, looking at Emily's determined expression.

"I am _not_ a demon." Ali shot back, glaring at him over Emily's shoulder. "I'm a Halfling for your information, dickhead."

"She's right, Ali is only half-demon, and that's not her fault," Emily agreed, pressing her hand against Enji's chest to keep him at bay when he took a threatening step forward. "We're friends. Ali won't hurt me, and I won't let you hurt _her_ either, Enji."

"Demons shouldn't be trusted. Not even _Halflings_," Enji said.

"So I shouldn't trust you then." Emily snapped, and narrowed her gaze at him warningly.

"No. You shouldn't." Enji said, and easily avoided the slap she aimed at him.

"Get out, Enji."

"Fine." Enji bristled, and pointed a finger at Emily. "But don't come running to me when the half-breed there decides to feed you to her hidden minions in some godforsaken basement."

"Hey, screw you!" Ali gently pushed Emily out of the way and stepped right up to him fearlessly. "I don't play on that side of the hellgate, you ass. I prefer human society!"

"I know your type," Enji snarled in her face. He'd be damned if he let this creature see another day.

"And I know yours," Ali growled right back. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then clearly you don't know who I am."

"I know very well who you are, but I haven't hurt anybody!"

"Not yet, and if I can help it, you never will."

"So you're going to kill me just because of what I am. Then go for it, Enji. Take your best shot."

For a second, Enji thought he actually might. The familiar adrenaline rush before a kill was pumping through his veins. He could visualize ripping her throat out. His fingers clamped around her throat, but the bloodlust wouldn't put strength behind his grip. Something inside of him restrained him from adding pressure. He could feel her warm pulse beating under his fingertips, as calm and steady as his own heartbeat. Her eyes were cool and almost patronizing as she gazed back up at him, offering no resistance whatsoever.

Emily knocked them apart with a terrified cry. "Enji, _get out!_"

There was no room or breath for him to object. Emily was shoving him toward the door with frantic speed and adrenaline-packed strength. The door slammed shut right in his face before he could resist.

"I'm sorry, Ali... oh sheesh, are you okay? Look, look, it's okay, I won't let him near you again... I'm sorry, so so sorry..." Emily's voice was muffled behind the door, but Enji could pick out the words and tone of her voice with skilfully trained hearing.

"It's okay," Ali said, strained.

"No, it's _not_ okay. I promised you could come here and get away from all the violence. I promised your mom you'd be safe here, or my mom promised... it doesn't matter, I'm really sorry, Ali." The sound of clothes rustling. A hug, maybe, he could only guess.

"Forget it, Emily." Ali said. Her voice was thick with tears, unstable –and hurt. "I didn't expect it to be a cheerful meeting anyway."

"Don't be silly. Enji's just overreacting, that's all. I told you he's a devil hunter, didn't I? I don't know what his problem is, though. Like he's not half demon himself...he has no right to judge. He's a _devil_, not a god." Emily said heatedly. The words gave him a mental kick and sent him head first into a lake of guilt. She had a point. Wasn't Dante always going on about how unfair the world was when it came to judging others and jumping to conclusions? Fuckit.

Enji leaned against the door and pressed the doorbell long and hard. He didn't depress the button until the door wrenched open in front of him, and Emily met him with a frustrated glare.

"What do you want?" Emily snapped.

Enji tilted his head back and rolled it on his shoulders with a sigh. "Ali, I didn't mean to...well... you know... scare you."

"If that's the best you can do with an apology, you can shove it." Emily said tartly.

Enji dropped his head forward and fixed her with a steady look. "I'm not talking to you, babe."

Emily opened her mouth, revving up to coax something that sounded a lot more like 'sorry' from him, no doubt. But Ali appeared behind her, pulling the door open all the way. There were unshed tears still swimming on the surface of her eyes, but she looked a lot more approachable than Emily.

"That's okay. Just don't let it happen again." Ali said, her voice still shaky.

"I'll try." Enji said with a shrug, and looked down at Emily. "Can I come in or what? I'm wet and it's freezing out here."

"Sure." Emily said, stepping aside to let him in. "You can go get dried up, and when you're done, I'm sure Dante will be here to pick you up already."

Enji paused halfway across the room and turned to give her a careful glance. Emily closed the door. She had that look on her face – that cute, pouting, determined, bitchy look that made him want to tear down the walls.

"Oh, yeah?"

"You're not staying over." Emily huffed at him indignantly. "After you just tried to choke my best friend? Hell no, Enji."

Enji lifted his eyebrows in response and stared back at her. His gaze darted to Ali, who had taken it upon herself to pour boiled water into the cups lined on the counter, before resting on Emily. He strolled over to her slowly, every step causing her to move away from him, until she was backed up against the kitchen cupboard. Enji leaned in close to her, resting one hand against the door beside her.

"You really want me to go?" Enji asked mischievously.

She didn't. He could see the turmoil in her emerald eyes – common sense versus emotional sentiments. Fear and anger conflicting with affection and desire. And he thought he was messed up.

"Yeah, I think you should. I'm going to call Dante so you don't have to walk in the rain, so you'd better just get ready. You know how he hates waiting for you." Emily said, and he knew she didn't mean a word of it.

"Auw. You're seriously ditching our plan? Even after we've been counting the days, the hours, the minutes," Enji dropped his voice and brought his face within inches of hers. He reached up with his other hand, and slid his long slender fingers down the cool smoothness...

"You kind of killed the mood," Emily breathed, hanging on his every word. Her eyes were smouldering, fixed on his mouth.

... until they came into contact with something thin and taut. His fingers curled around it in a powerful embrace...

"Damn, that's a pity." Enji said huskily, and his lips grazed over hers teasingly. "And cruel. You realize you've been leading me on all these weeks, don't you?"

"I... I..." Emily lost train of thought.

... locked in a fist. He gave it a good, firm tug, and felt it yield easily within his grasp...

"I'm still staying over." Enji cut her off, and his lips curled into a haughty smirk. He stepped away from her, and unceremoniously dropped the phone cord he'd severed from the wall on the counter beside them. "Good luck with calling Dante."

"Ugh, Enji!" Emily nearly shrieked, staring at the ruined plaster and broken phone line in horror.

Enji wheeled around on his heel, and paused at the disconcerted look on Ali's face. "What?" Enji sniffed, and walked past her.

"Nothing." Ali said quietly to his retreating back.

~...~

There was something oddly familiar about the deathly silent darkness surrounding him. Enji stood quietly, narrowed icy gaze sweeping across the solid black wrapped around him. His senses extended into the infinite shadows when his eyesight failed to adjust – it came to him as naturally and easily as breathing.

He was in the presence of great demonic powers. Two different kinds, if he could rely on anything here. He was in between them, just out of reach of both. Undetected. In front of him, somewhere, there was something ugly. Something waiting for him – he didn't understand how he knew this, but he just knew. He could pick up on its anticipation. Something big, and really powerful, and purely evil. Behind him, there was another power – a different kind that beckoned to him. He could feel its tendrils coil around his subconscious, tugging him toward it, pleading for his attention. Enji turned around.

A doorway in the distance stood haloed in misty blue. He took a step toward it, and felt a heavy wave of raging terror wash into him. It was intense enough to nearly bring him to his knees. It took a lot of will power to keep moving toward it. The blue around the door changed to deep purple, and as he drew closer, he finally noticed that there was somebody standing right in the doorway.

Memory slapped him on the back of the head. He remembered this dream. Oh, hell, did he remember it – Dante wouldn't let him forget about it for a long time. Enji's steps slowed down when the whispering started. The figure had its back to him, again just as he recalled, only his reflection was taller. It had grown with him, then. It didn't move.

Enji felt his breath smooth out, and he tried to shake off the freezing dread that made his body want to tremble. Here. He stopped. His mouth had gone dry. His eyes burned. The power was more turbulent than he remembered, and it had increased. It was beyond overwhelming – it was crippling. It chilled his skin and made the skin of his fingertips shrivel up. It spread a fine layer of icy dust across him, and it soaked into him. He could feel the power searing through his veins, driving sharp icicles through his nerves. All this power – it was frightening, thrilling, and enough to drive him mad. Yet there was one little word that resonated through his being; the power snaked around it, filled it, urged it, desired it – _more_.

The whispers swirled into a chorus of demented hisses. Enji extended his arm toward his reflection, and paused. When he'd taken a step forward before, something in the dark had dragged him away. Enji slowly lowered his arm, momentarily perplexed. He didn't budge from the spot, but he tried to swipe at the image in front of him. He missed it by several inches. Not even the light wind his movement made caught its attention. Maybe he really was some sort of reincarnation, and this was his past self trying to connect with his present self. Maybe, in a previous life, he _had_ been Vergil.

He stood for a long time staring at the figure, willing it to disappear. It didn't. His heart missed a beat when he watched the figure in the mirror start to walk away. This was new.

Fear kept him rooted to the spot as he watched the blue clad form very slowly wander down the darkness. He wanted the figure to disappear but something inside of him took flame and the urgent compulsion to make the image stop and come back consumed him. It gave him nerve and strength to find his voice.

"Hey!" His voice carried like a knife through the darkness and silence. The figure halted in its steps at his voice.

"Hey, you!" Enji shouted again, his breath catching in his throat when he heard a cacophony of furious voices fin the dark around him. The figure looked over its shoulder cautiously and turned back. His face was a blurry mask.

The steps were slow and hesitant, pausing every second to look from side to side. Up and down. Over its shoulder and then toward him, before taking the next step. It was taking painfully slow.

Enji didn't move. He watched anxiously as the figure carefully approached him. It wasn't until the image was a few steps away from him that he realized that it wasn't the dream making the image's movements sluggish.

The figure appeared braced. Listening. Watching. Smelling. It reminded him of a predator out on the prowl. The blurry features of the figure turned solid. It took another step. They were face to face.

Just like looking into a mirror. It was only his reflection after all. He'd been a paranoid, superstitious idiot like Dante for thinking it could be anything else. Yet there was a stealthy look in the depth of those heavy lidded, piercing cobalt eyes that he couldn't match even if he tried. He didn't think he ever looked like that before – not even when he was at his most outraged. It was a cold look filled with so much loathing and fury and menace that it made him tremble violently, nearly forcing him to back away. There was bloodlust in those eyes. But they seemed to look right through him.

"Can...can you see me?" Enji whispered, too afraid to raise his voice.

A shudder went through him when the figure exhaled slowly, its breath warm on his face. This was no reflection. This was a completely separate entity from himself that had assumed his face. A demon. He knew he was partially right. The word demon rang a bell in the far back of his head.

Enji watched the demon right in front of him turn to look to the right, to the left, over his shoulder, up, then down. A name wanted to form in his frightened mind and he grasped for it desperately, hoping that it would save him from this creature before him.

D. He knew it started with a D. Dante?

The figure before him sighed heavily, shoulders heaving. Enji braced himself when it looked up again, right into his face. The blue gaze looked through him again. He watched the lips part, bracing himself for whatever might happen next, even as an unseen force began to wrap around him.

"Where are you?" A whisper.

He realized then that the whispers he'd heard all the time were coming from this figure. It had been looking for him. Enji stood unmovable as a rock. Something wanted to yank him into the blackness, away from the image, but he resisted it easily. The terror he'd felt - that deeply disturbing feeling of helplessness, of not being in control – wasn't his. It didn't belong to him. It belonged to the guy standing right in front of him.

The figure clapped his hands together, as if in prayer, and went down on his one knee. Enji watched, fighting the terror that wasn't his, when the image parted its hands and a blue orb hovered between its palms. It cast hazy blue streaks through the darkness, and washed over him in gentle, oddly familiar waves. It sparked something inside of him. A vision of Trish flitted before his eyes – and The Wimp with his cocky grin. And then Ali was there, appearing in the dark right behind the figure.

"Vergil?" Enji tested the name uncertainly.

The figure's head snapped up in his direction, their eyes locked – and a terrified cry blasted through his ears, tearing his gaze from the other.

Enji jerked awake so hard, he went crashing off the couch and landed in a painful heap on the floor. He blinked, dazed, and stared at Emily's surprised face. She had one hand to her chest, the other to her mouth, and her green eyes were round and wide. She gripped the blanket tighter to her chest, and the stunned look on her face succumbed into guilty laughter.

"Gosh...I'm sorry, Enji, I didn't know you were asleep," Emily snorted with laughter and reached her hands down to help him up.

Enji stared at her hands for a second, and glanced over his shoulder at the TV. _The Sixth Sense_ was rolling. Enji closed his eyes and dropped his chin onto his chest, slowly letting out a deep breath.

"Enji, you okay?" Emily asked playfully.

He opened his eyes, and turned his head to look at the girl curled up on the other couch. Ali was watching him with caution, and her gaze darted toward the TV when he frowned at her.

"What the hell was that all about?" Enji snapped, climbing to his feet.

"What do you mean?" Ali asked. By the way she avoided looking at him at all, he knew she'd really been in his dream.

"Don't act like some damn idiot," Enji said in a low, threatening voice.

Ali glanced at him uneasily, and shrugged. "I'm...sorry? It's a burden I have. I'm insatiably curious. I couldn't help myself."

"So you decided to come snooping through my dream?" Enji barked. "Get a fucking hobby, Ali."

Ali responded with a malicious giggle, and started to sing in a teasing voice. "You're soooo vain, you probably think this song is about you..."

"Shut up. And stay the hell out of my head." Enji cut her off, slumping back into the couch beside Emily. He shifted and relaxed when she slipped her warm arms around him.

"What are you on about now?" Emily asked helplessly.

"He dreams about himself." Ali said, but there was an edge to her voice. "How vain can you really get, Enji?"

"I'm going home." Enji said abruptly, untangling Emily from him and getting off the couch.

"Are you serious? It's past midnight..." Emily said, stunned.

"See you tomorrow, babe," he said, landing a quick kiss on her lips before breaking away. He shut the door firmly on his way out, and he paused in the light of the stairwell to call home.

The answer machine picked up. Enji hung up, and punched in Dante's mobile number instead. He answered after the second ring.

"Watcha want, kid?"

"Remember that IOU floating around?" Enji said with a frown.

"Fuck. Enji, it's nearly one in the morning. Can this wait until I'm home?"

"Depends. What are you doing?"

"I'm helping Buster Boy find Yamato, remember?" Dante said impatiently.

"Yeah... I need you to organize a meeting with Nissa for me."

"Oh. Hah. Yeah, right."

"Either you do, or we settle that IOU in a less civilised manner. It's your call."

"You're never gonna let me live it down, are you?"

"Unless you can dump me on my parent's doorstep – no."


	7. FSC: Copycat

**This was initially chapter 22, when Dante first meets Vergil.**  
**Well, we kinda know how that went in the actual fic, so this one no longer applies.**  
**Just as well. Ali sucks ostrich eggs here anyway.**

* * *

Dante set after the teenager without a beat of hesitation. Ali's frantic screams followed him, each note spurring him to move faster.

"Vergil! Come back! _Vergil!"  
_

The kid was a few yards ahead of him... a few long strides... right in front of him...  
Dante tackled him, and they went rolling across the hard tar like a stone skipping over the surface of a black lake. Their momentum came to a jarring halt when they crashed into a car parked on the sidewalk. Dante shook his head, dazed when the world came back into focus around him. He was slumped over the kid, crushing him to the ground.

"Get off me!" The infuriated cry was muffled under him.

Dante grabbed hold of the kid's wrists, and slowly pushed himself off. The boy sat up as soon as he moved away, and tried to yank himself free of Dante's iron grip. A flash of pain went across the young features.

Dante stared. It was hard to grasp the fact that the boy in front of him - with the disarrayed icy blonde hair, and the cold, hard blue eyes – wasn't Enji. He was breathing hard, an angry flush raging up his neck and across his pale face, and his shoulders were physically shaking from suppressed fury. His eyebrows were knitted together in a deep, furious scowl. This boy had Enji's face, but Enji had never been this angry before. Enji didn't have that cold fire in him that could make Dante's heart freeze over like this.

The boy yanked again, and Dante's grip tightened bruising hard. He frowned, and slowly got to his knees. The world seemed to literally be slurring around him. Right that moment, nothing was real – nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, and the excruciating realization that burned through his core.

"Let me go." The boy said, carefully gathering his legs beneath him. Definitely his voice. Enji didn't sound like that.

Dante felt the breath choke out of his lungs. He'd been so sure he'd never hear that voice again...

"I _said_ let go!" The boy thundered. Dante saw the kick coming but he was too late to dodge it. Two leather-clad boots connected with his chest, with just enough strength behind it to knock him flat on his back. He lost his grip.

The boy scrambled over to where Yamato lay in the middle of the road. He didn't quite get there. Dante was back on his feet and seized the kid by the shoulder, his grip firm when he spun the boy around to face him.

"What's the rush..." Dante didn't get to finish. The boy spun around the second he touched his shoulder, and swung a fist right at his face. Dante ducked smoothly out of the way, and straight into the path of the second fist. Knuckles collided with his jaw and snapped his head back with surprising force. He recovered fast, and launched a left kick into the boy's gut the moment the kid straightened up with Yamato in his grasp. The impact sent the boy staggering, but the katana didn't leave his hold.

"Let it go, kid," Dante breathed angrily.

"Why don't you come get it?" The boy had regained his balance, and was standing at the ready. Composed and determined. This wasn't going to be easy.

Dante drew out Rebellion. The kid didn't so much as blink. "I don't want to hurt you."

"And I will do whatever it takes." The boy responded flatly. "This belongs to me. You cannot have it."

"Who are you really?" Dante snapped, circling the boy.

The boy didn't budge an inch. He followed Dante's steps with his eyes, his expression stony and unreadable, his posture one of rigid alert and languid anticipation. He didn't speak until Dante had fully circled him and they were once more face to face.

"You know who I am." The boy said – and attacked. Yamato cut an arc through the air and came down to meet Rebellion's blade in full swing. The two swords stuck in a power lock as icy blue eyes trapped bewildered, jaded blue gaze.

"Do I?" Dante said uncertainly.

The boy's lips tipped up in a small, superior smirk. The power lock broke. Dante made to step away, to block whatever blow was next to come, but the boy was a step ahead of him – and a lot more ruthless than he remembered. The boy advanced on Dante quickly, landing a punch in his gut and launching a high spinning hook kick that brought Dante down to his knees.

"That's enough!" Ali shrieked. Dante glimpsed up to see her and Nero come to a stumbling halt, surveying the damage the two were inflicting on one another. The boy was distracted by her for a fraction of a second. That's all he needed. Dante lifted one knee, intent on doing a classic leg arc and swiping the kid off his feet, but he never got that far. Ali's next words caused him hesitation.

"Put that down! It's not yours!" She shrieked at the boy.

"Don't be a fool..." The boy started angrily.

"Put it down, or I'll hurt you." Ali threatened, shifting into a common karate stance. "Daddy said I could hurt you if you got like this. Put it down. _Now."  
_

"Ali..." The boy started with a deep sigh.

His words were cut off by a small fist slamming him a painful uppercut beneath the jaw. A knee came up and struck him in the mid-section, forcing him to fold double in pain, followed be a perfectly executed roundhouse kick. Her foot connected with the back of his neck, knocking him down flat on his face. Ali snatched Yamato from his momentarily slack hand, and stepped away slowly when he rose to his feet a long moment later.

"Ali, give it to me." He extended his hand toward her, breathing hard.

"No." Ali said, shaking her head. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked frightened out of her wits, but there was a staunch stubbornness carved into her fragile features.

"_Give it to me!" _The boy shouted, his collected exterior shattering and revealing pure uncontrolled rage.

"You're going to get yourself killed, you dumbass!" Ali sobbed back.

"I need that. _We_ need it, Ali." The boy was trembling. He took a step toward her, and Ali swung Yamato, holding it at the ready.

"Come any closer and I really _will_ hurt you, Vergil." Ali said through gritted teeth, and she meant every word.

Vergil didn't move toward her, but his composure was broken. "We need that, Ali! We can't help them without it!"

"Mom said if anything like this happened you'd snap." Ali said, pointing the sharp tip of Yamato at her sibling. "Are you going to prove her right? Or are you going to cool off?"

Vergil glared back at her. "I am the rightful owner of that sword."

"No. You _were_, and then you died. Remember, hot stuff over there wiped the floor with your ass," Ali gestured toward Dante. "You're _dead_, Vergil."

"Shut the hell up!" Vergil shot back heatedly.

Ali stepped closer to a pale and confused Nero. She held Yamato to him. Nero sent a weary glance at the boy, looked at the girl in front of him uncertainly, and took hold of it with his devil arm. The sword disintegrated and melted into him with a streak of blue light. He sent another glance at the boy, who was now staring at him with round eyes.

"It's Nero's now." Ali said to Vergil's stumped expression. "You don't exist here anymore. Remember?"

Vergil blinked, snapping out of the shocked trance, and gave a brief, violent shake of his head."Of course I remember!" He growled.

"Then what the hell were you thinking coming here and stealing the damn sword in the first place?" Ali exploded. "Have you gone crazy? _Everything_ we've been trying to do... everything _you_ have been through would become pointless if you died here!"

"I wouldn't have died..."

"You imbecile!" Ali cut him off with an angry shriek. "Yes you would! You couldn't defeat him before, you won't defeat him now, damn it! Not everybody gets a second chance. _Don't_ screw this up, Vergil!"


	8. FSC: Enji meets Ali

**This was meant to be Chapter 19, the next chapter for FSC. **

**I didn't get far enough to actually complete it, because I was going to hamper on some details a bit more, but the gist of it is that everyone at school believed Enji to be Vergil. And for some 'unknown' reason Vergil hadn't been attending school since Enji showed up, and in some miraculous way people were either incredibly stupid or they were incredibly stupid not to catch on that Enji isn't Vergil. So, with that in mind, I do believe I just saved myself from a major headache trying to make logic work with fiction in that perspective. The reason why I cut this is because it's all about Enji.  
**  
**The story is about Dante. NOT Enji. The irony of that statement no longer has me twitching with giggles. I'm actually upset that no one has caught on to my plot/twist yet, and if you have, please do let me know. Or else it means I'm doing something wrong and I as the author can see it all clearly but you as the reader can't. I don't want the 'big' reveal to be a shocker because I've been trying hard to drop hints throughout that aren't too obvious but would hopefully stick in your subconscious.**

**On that, if anyone knows/ thinks they know/ has a theory about where Enji's come from/who he is/the secret of Enji's origins, you're more than welcome to put it in your review.**

* * *

Dawn was breaking the royal blue sky into shades of lavender and rose when Kyrie entered the kitchen to prepare breakfast for their family. Enji watched her from the shadows of the family table as she flicked on the fluorescent lights and bustled about with pans and food.

He considered slipping out of the apartment and roaming the lonely streets of Fortuna, but this would not bode well with Kyrie or Nero. They kept him on a short leash, something Enji still had trouble accepting five months after they took him in; five months since he'd last seen Trish. Twenty two weeks since he'd last heard anything from Lady. One hundred and fifty three days he'd spent every hour hoping and waiting for Dante to come back.

"Hey." Nero's sleepy voice made Enji look up from glaring at the table, and he watched the older man settle into the chair beside him. "You're up early again. Don't you ever sleep, Enji?"

"Enji likes to watch the sunrise with me," Kyrie said from the kitchen.

If only they knew. Enji twitched and clamped his hands together on his lap. He couldn't give a shit about sunrises. He _wasn't_ sleeping; some nights it was because he thought he could feel Dante nearby, and he'd wait up in fierce anticipation and cruel hope that Dante would come kicking down the front door and take him home. Other nights it was because his sleep was plagued with that recurring nightmare filled with darkness and reflections, always the same, always waking him up in a cold sweat with the cold voice growling 'shall never surrender' still echoing through his head.

"Everything okay at school, buddy?" Nero asked, studying Enji's tight expression.

"Yeah," Enji blew out his breath.

Fortuna High was very different from what Enji was accustomed to. It was far smaller, for one – everyone knew everyone else. There were no cliques, but there were bullies. Enji had known he would never get away from people like that. He'd been lucky up to this point, because they hadn't actually picked on him. Everyone seemed to know who Nero was, and therefore knew who Enji was. The kids treated him differently, but it was a better treatment than the one he'd gotten back home.

Still, he didn't belong, and he missed home.

"You've got that big test coming up sometime soon, don't you?" Nero pressed.

"Yeah."

"I'm sure you'll do well, Enji. You're always studying and doing your homework in your room, I don't think you have anything to worry about," Kyrie said, and placed a cup of coffee in front of Nero. "You set such an excellent example of what a good student is supposed to be like," she added to Enji with an affectionate pat on his shoulder. "We're very proud of you, Enji."

"Whatever."

Nero leaned back and sipped his coffee, watching Enji carefully. "Have you signed up for any sports yet?"

"No."

"You should. You need to get some exercise in and keep yourself strong."

"I used to be strong when I went out hunting with Dante," Enji muttered, and Nero exploded.

He slammed his cup down on the table, sending dark liquid sloshing over the brim, and he flew to his feet, his eyes blazing. "I _told_ you, Enji, you need to stop thinking about it! You're too young to put your life at risk like that! Dante didn't know what the hell he was doing, and if I'd known he was taking you into dangerous territory, I would have taken you away from him a damn long time ago!"

"Nero!" Kyrie chided, rushing over to place a calming hand on Nero's throbbing devil bringer. "You need to calm down."

"You weren't much older than me when you were trained to become a knight," Enji said, apathetic to the outburst. His voice dropped into a miserable tone. "What's it matter, anyway? Dante's not coming back, and you'll never let me help you fight demons."

"It's for your own good," Nero said, struggling to regain his composure as he sat back down. Kyrie mopped up his spilt drink, and exchanged worried looks with him when Enji let out a long, heavy sigh.

"We only want to keep you safe, Enji. You've been through too much for a boy your age. We care about you, and we want what is best for you," Kyrie said gently.

"Yeah I know," Enji lied. If anyone had known what was best for him, it had been Dante.

If he hadn't taught Enji how to fight, or nurtured his need to be independent instead of suppressing it, Enji would be pudgy from all Kyrie's baked goodies, and a spoilt rich brat who would need others to fight for his survival. That was one of the core reasons Dante taught him everything he knew in the first place - to protect himself. As it were, Enji didn't need Nero or Kyrie. He could survive on his own. He could take care of himself. Besides, he couldn't count on anyone else but himself. Dante knew that, and Enji knew that, too. But Kyrie and Nero were a different breed all together – they didn't believe that Enji was capable at life, and they always had to keep track of him – where he was, when he was there, who he was with, what he was doing, why he couldn't do the same thing at home. Their complete lack of trust in Enji's ability to sustain himself was the rock wall that stopped him from opening up to them. They wouldn't understand. They didn't get it.

"Do you really?" Nero asked, intruding on his miserable thoughts.

He cast a quick look at Nero, and pushed himself out of his chair at the expected 'I know what you're thinking so you might as well say it out loud' stare Nero was giving him. That look was cropping up way too often to Enji's liking, and it was verging on the point of irritation by now.

"I'm gonna be late for school," Enji said.

"But you haven't had breakf-"

Kyrie's protest was snapped off when he slammed the front door shut behind him. Enji paused on the doorstep and gave the street a cool stare, knowing he wouldn't see a flash of red but hoping that he would anyway. He somehow knew Dante was watching him. He vented his frustration out on his walk to school by kicking at debris and stones scattered on the sidewalk, grumbling about the unfairness of his life.

When the looming stone gates of Fortuna High appeared, Enji put his head down and fixed his blue eyes on his feet, and picked up his pace. Maybe, if he didn't make any eye contact and stuck to the shadows, today he would make it to class without incident.

The moment he set foot through the gates he was caught up in a swarm of girls. Enji's shoulders slouched in defeat and he tore his gaze from the ground to look at the conservatively dressed nunnery flocking around him. He was starting to believe that they were specifically waiting right at the entrance to school to corner him every morning. Not that Enji minded the attention all that much, but the girls...weren't exactly his type.

"Did you study for the test?"

"Do you want to come revise the work with us..."

"Yes, would you like to do that?"

"We're all at the top of our classes!"

Back home, the only girl who ever willingly offered to have him over for study sessions was Emily, and their definition of studying was at odds with these girls'._ If only_, Enji thought and grimaced. He was more likely to get slapped if he so much as dared show this Convent of Prim and Proper just how he liked to study.

"That's okay," Enji said instead, sidestepping the group of girls. "I already know the work."

He left them gazing at him in disappointment and was heading for his locker when another nun stepped in his way.

"Hey, Enji," the girl said nervously.

"Hey," Enji muttered. "I already told your friends I've done my studying."

"Studying?" the girl repeated with a hint of panic. "Have we got a test today?"

"Uh, yeah. Everyone knew about it for a week," Enji arched an eyebrow.

"But...ugh, damn it!" the girl exploded, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "I had family drama! Do you think they'll let me resit the test?"

"No."

The girl pulled her hood down, and Enji recoiled slightly from her. She looked like a mirror image of Trish; the same intelligent, sharp blue eyes, the same regal nose, the same pouting mouth. But there were differences too, like her hair being more white than blonde, and her eyebrows being darker and arched. Still, the resemblance made Enji uneasy.

"Great. My mom is gonna tear me to pieces if I bring home another F," the girl was grumbling, gesturing angrily with her hands before pausing to stare at him. "Will you help me?"

"It's a bit late to start studying now, don't you think?" Enji asked, quickly recovering from the initial shock.

"No shit! I meant will you help me with the test?" the girl said, rolling her eyes at him.

"You want to cheat?"

"Uh - yeah?"

"Well. Looks like this school isn't as stepford as I thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

"Never mind. Sure, I'll help you cheat. But if we get caught, you're on your own."

"Thank you, Enji! You're my hero!"

Enji froze and tried to bear away when she threw her arms around him in a hug. She didn't seem to take notice and flashed him a dimpled smile before skipping toward the main hall. He stared after her, stumped, and felt his temper boil up along side the questions that cooked inside of him. Somebody was going to have to give him explanations real damn soon.

Enji wandered to class and passed underneath the stares of two intimidating boys standing sentry at the door. He recognized them, only because they had been watching him from day one, as though they wanted to approach him but didn't know how. He expected one of them to trip him or to step in his way at the last second, but neither boy moved or spoke to him. He shifted in behind his desk, and tensed when the two guys came into class and settled in the desks on either side of him. Enji swallowed and feigned casualness, leaning back in his seat with a long sigh.

The girl from earlier came gliding into the classroom. Enji noticed her step falter when she spotted the two guys and Enji, and she came to a halt beside one of them. "Move back, Peyton. I'm sitting next to him."

The guy paused, looking from the girl to Enji before letting out a low, unhappy mumble and moving to another seat. The girl slid behind the desk and gave Enji another little smile.

"Good luck," she whispered.

Enji grunted and didn't look up from his desk again. The quizzes were handed out, and he kept expecting the teacher to catch them, but the girl was impressively sneaky. When their papers were collected at the end of the hour, the girl leaned across the aisle with a look of relief on her face.

"I have to make it up to you somehow."

"That's alright," Enji said with a shrug.

"No, really!" She said, and came too close for comfort. She cupped her hands around his ear and whispered, "Why don't you come over to my house for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I prefer to know who I'm going out with," Enji said, leaning away from her warily.

"Ali," she grinned, and slapped him on the shoulder when the bell rang. "And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Enji sat as the rest of the students filed out, and kept to himself as he exchanged classes. Something about this place had bothered him from the day he first came here. He'd adopted the tactic of staying invisible and not mixing with anyone, and so far it had been a good move to make because people were friendly and civil to him whenever he was forced to interact. Other than that, they left him well alone. Stepford High, Enji thought, but that wasn't it. It wasn't the nice way people spoke to him, or the smiles, or the kindness shown to him. It was the familiarity with which they did it that was disturbing.

He was used to sitting alone at lunch, but today the chair across from him was pulled back, and Ali planted herself elegantly in front of him with her tray.

"Hi."

"We're friends now?" Enji asked.

"My dad wouldn't take kindly to me inviting an enemy over for dinner," Ali said, and giggled lightly. "You looked lonely so I thought I'd join you."

"I'm not lonely," Enji lied.

"Sure, whatever," Ali said, and he shut up at the knowing smirk she gave him.

"So where do you live?"

"In the south of Fortuna," Ali said, and shook her head when Enji puckered his lips in distaste. "Don't generalize me or I'll kick you in the shin."

"Only the obnoxious people with too much money live in the south," Enji said, and shrugged. "You can't blame me for generalizing."

"You're being obnoxious by looking down on rich people," Ali said. "If we were too good for you, I wouldn't have invited you over for dinner, would I?"


	9. FSC: Jackpot? XD

**This was originally chapter 20 - Enji and Vergil's first meeting.**

** I worked on this for DAYS. It's also not complete, and the parts I was plotting to write in tune with this storyline never made it from my mind onto paper. But basically, the scenario would have been that Enji goes back to the city with Dante, and instead of going out hunting Dante suggests an alternative extra currucular activity, so Enji joins a martial arts team. They were the Firestorms or the Firebreakers or Inferno, I couldn't decide on an appropriate name, but anyway their team made it into the finals, and they're about to fight for the title of the reigning champions in the combat ring. The only problem is that the final team they have to beat is the famous Glaciens from Fortuna, revered for their well trained and cutthroat team members, also their Secret Weapon (I can't remember the exact reference because I haven't read through this again but Vergil is known by the name/rep he set for himself in the ring, instead of his actual name), and then there's the little problem that the Glaciens have held the championship title for several years in sequence. Aka, they're unbeatable. But then they never had to face Enji in combat. **

**Anyway, this was my overall favourite chapter to write because I really am big time into WCL (World Combat League), I adore for establishing it in the first place, and I'm Timmy Connors' number one fan. Seriously that dude is a brilliant fighter. Now I just want to see the WCL of 2010, I'm pretty sure it should be done and over and out on DVD by now.**

***Cue WCL theme song* What? It's catchy! XD**

**And if this doesn't give away what Dante already figured out for himself in Chapter 17 &18 of FSC, then I really don't know what will. Unless I spell it out. But where's the fun in that?**

* * *

The excitement in the room was nearly tangible. The usual banter about flooring their matched opponents was absent on this last day. This was it. The big finale. The Firestorms – the small team from Metropolis that everyone had initially underestimated – were going up against the Glaciens from the feudal city Fortuna. The town where Sparda allegedly once roamed. Everyone knew the story, and everyone's bets were on the Glaciens. Fortuna had bred thorough fighters. They were the best – everyone had known they would be in the finals.

Nobody had counted on the newbie team to be the last to beat. It was motivating.

Enji wound the deep red handwrap around his knuckles, and observed his teammates from his bench. Peyton was stretching his muscles. Tim and Justin were doing a practice run for warm-up. Bryan was doing his meditation off in a corner. Sandy was beating the crap out of a punching bag. It was an exhilarating feeling to know that when this week started, everyone had raised their eyebrows at the Nobodies. Now the name Firestorms was on every tongue.

And it was a thrilling experience. They were going up against _the Glaciens_. The team that had _never_ been beaten in the National Combat Tournament, because they consisted of the most elite fighters to ever grace the earth. Enji's heart was beating in steady anticipation. This was going to be the fight of the century.

Coach Rusty stepped into the locker room and cleared his throat to catch their attention. "This is going to be a tough fight guys. Just remember that nothing is impossible – we have a chance to win the title of National Champions. We wouldn't be here right now if we didn't match up."

"You lookin' a bit nervous there, coach," Tim taunted lightly. "I thought _we_ were the ones facing off with these unbeatable foes." A chorus of humble chuckles from the others followed his comment, but Coach Rusty had no trace of humour on his face for a change.

"I have a few details about who you're facing off against. Bryan, you'll be fighting McMahon. You're shorter than him – use that to your advantage in every way you can." Coach Rusty said.

"You went to spy on the other team?" Sandy asked and punched Enji lightly in the arm. "Looks like Enji's bad influence on you, coach. Cheating isn't in the game plan."

"Hey," Enji huffed, and struggled to get his fight gloves on. Sandy rolled her eyes and went to his aid.

"Tim, you're up against Keith. He's a kicker, so move in close and use your fists," Coach continued, undeterred, "And Sandy, you'll be fighting Ivy. She's renowned for her left hook, so watch her. Peyton, you've been matched with Dean, and Justin, you'll be fighting Sven."

There were collective mumbles from the team. Enji caught Coach's sharp stare, and got to his feet. "And who am I fighting?"

Silence fell, and all eyes swivelled to fix on Enji.

"Shit, Enji..." Sandy started, doing a double-take at Coach. "I thought they'd match Peyton up to the King."

"The King?" Enji repeated.

"The dude's been with the Glaciens for five years." Bryan nodded with a frown. "Can we switch fighters, Coach? Enji doesn't stand a chance against him. He's a first timer, it won't be a fair fight."

"Hey, it's the judge's decision who goes up against who, not mine." Coach Rusty held his hands in surrender, and looked at Enji with a peculiar smirk. "They match the fighters as equally and fairly as possible. The King keeps his technique tight, and he's got reflexes like a rattlesnake. A lot of people say his fighting is flawless, and as of yet he's never lost a round. He has an intimidating rep to knock out his opponent in the first twenty seconds of the fight."

Enji slammed his padded fists together. "I'll beat him by ten."

Coach Rusty's grin turned unstable. "Alright, guys. The same rules apply – all kicking skills, all punching skills, all knee strikes to the body and head are allowed. No stalling or else points will be given to the opposition. Keep your discipline – this is not a personal vendetta, this is a competition to prove the best fighter. I don't want to see any brawls break out during or after the fight, Tim."

"What?" Tim said innocently, and shrugged mournfully. "'kay, Coach."

" Listen to the ref. If he says stop, you distance yourself from your opponent immediately. Always keep your eye on the target. The judges will be looking for good technique, and no illegal moves or you'll be disqualified from the tournament. Enji." Coach Rusty paused to look at him pointedly.

"Gotcha, Coach." Enji mumbled guiltily.

"Knockout scores the team 15 – 0. That's what we're aiming for." Coach Rusty finished. "Any questions?"

"I think I sprained my wrist." Sandy piped up.

Everyone turned to stare at her in disbelief. Enji broke the horrified silence. "I knew you were going too wild on the punch bag."

"We need you to fight, Sandy!" Justin exploded. "We don't stand a chance in hell with one player less."

"She's chickening out." Bryan added in dismay.

"I am _not_!" Sandy said, suddenly looking very small under her teammates' blazing glares.

"Sandy, this is no time to get cold feet," Coach Rusty said.

"I'm not..."

"I'll hang here with her for a bit. Maybe if we soak that wrist in some hot water, you'll be good to fight." Enji interrupted.

Sandy sent him a grateful look, and Coach Rusty reluctantly agreed. "I'll come fetch you when it's your round."

Enji watched the others file out of the locker room, and turned to Sandy in disappointment. "I really wanted to watch them fight, y'know."

"I'm sorry." Sandy shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I just got too pumped up."

Neither of them spoke again for a while. There was absolute silence in the locker room when Enji got a bucket of steaming hot water and put it on the bench between them. Sandy saturated her arm up to her elbow in it. They could hear the judges announcing the fighters to step into the ring, heard the crowd burst into encouraging screams.

Each match was only a minute long. It sounded short, but for their age range it was almost too long. Non-stop fighting from the word Go until the bell rang, or the ref called it over, or a knockout took someone down. Constant kicking, constant fist launches – it gave one hell of a workout, and got harder the longer you kept at it.

With their time limit, they had to pull out all the stops. Produce the goods or face annihilation.  
Tim was the first fighter called in. Enji listened quietly. There was a collective 'oooh' from the crowd – somebody had taken a hard blow, and a good one, if the cheers were anything to go by.

The bell sounded like a goose being run over by a truck, signalling the end of the round. Enji stared at Sandy's arm. They didn't have a lot of time. He hoped she'd get her nerves back in check by the time coach called for them.

"The King broke my brother's collarbone in last year's tournament." Sandy said quietly at his worried glance. "He hasn't been able to continue martial arts ever since, and he was really good, Enji."

"So?"

"So what if... you know... what if that happens to me?"

"I don't see what you're worried about, Sandy. I'm the one fighting the King, and besides, if this chic has such a great left hook then her right isn't that good, and neither are her kicks. Take her down with a roundhouse kick. Attack her from your left. You can do it if you concentrate on what you're doing." Enji said, and rubbed his arm across his face to wipe away the beads of sweat starting on his forehead. "Just remember, this is only the first half. The second half will go easier because you'll have a feel for her moves."

"If I don't get knocked out."

"If you don't get knocked out." Enji agreed and blew out his breath.

"I've never seen you this nervous before." Sandy said.

"I've got reason to be, don't I?" Enji said dryly. "I'm used to beating demons to death, not fighting brawny humans. I'm going to have to tone it down for this King dude."

"He's not brawny." Sandy said, and frowned. "He's actually rather skinny. Well, toned is a better word, I guess. I can't remember, I've only ever seen him in the ring. Don't let his appearance catch you off guard, though. A lot of people underestimate him because he doesn't look like the other fighters."

The door burst open, and Peyton appeared with a red face and a raw cut right beneath his eye. "Sandy, you're up."

"Okay," Sandy muttered, grabbing a towel up and drying her arm.

Enji helped secure her fight gloves back on. "You ready to kick some ass?" he asked, peeking at her curiously.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Sandy said.

They jogged out of the locker room and up the narrow aisle that led through the bleachers and onto the fighting ring. Ivy was already in the blue center of the large circular ring, and all eyes were on Sandy. Enji gave her a pat on the shoulder for good luck, and went to join his teammates' bench on the side of the ring. They all looked like they'd been through a war, with their discoloured and bleeding faces. Enji sank down between Justin and Tim, and tried to peer across the broad fight ring at the rivalling team seated on the other side.

The bell rang. Sandy and Ivy jumped into action. Enji was satisfied to see Sandy had listened to him and was getting good hits in. He rose from the bench, squinting to get a clearer view of the Glaciens. Where was this dickhead with the ego he was going to wipe out?

Hands suddenly seized hold of him and flung him back into the bench. He almost went crashing right over but Justin caught him in time. The instant he saw blue, his first thought was that the opposing team was getting too worked up and wanted to come cause shit. The thought fled his mind when Coach Rusty didn't intervene, and his teammates didn't get up for a hustle.

Enji's gaze lifted to meet a pair of familiar blue eyes, round and alarmed right that moment. The pretty face thrust into his, and her small hands got his blazer in a choke hold.

"Ali?" Enji stared at her, stumped. "What are you doing here?"

"No...shit, Enji... what are _you_ doing here?" Ali hissed frantically.

"I'm fighting the King. I thought you weren't into violence?" Enji said, staring up at her in genuine bewilderment. "You didn't drive all the way out here just to see me fight, did you?"

"No, you dimwit, I'm here to root for my brother." Ali shot back, and shook him hard. "Enji, you need to get the hell out of here."

"Chill out, babe," Enji said, grabbing her hands and holding onto them. "I'm in the tournament, too. I can't just back out. Who's your brother?"

"The King, you ass." Ali said, and her voice actually trembled. "Enji, you _can't_ be here. You have to go home. Right now. You can't fight my brother."

"Oh. That's what you're worried about." Enji said, relaxing. "Tch, and here I thought you were worried about _me_."

"Damn it, Enji," Ali wrenched free of his grasp. "You don't understand. You _can't_ fight my brother... it's not _right_."

"Why, because you know I'm totally going to macerate him?" Enji asked with a cocky grin. "I'll go easy on him, but I am going to win."

The bell shrieked, and Ali physically jumped at the sound. She dug her fingers into his arms, and tugged at him desperately. "It's not fair, Enji. It's not right. I'm trying to protect you, damn it, stop looking like a confident little rooster."

"Last fight for the first half – for the Firestorms, let's hear it for Enji!" the announcement boomed over the speakers, and Enji rose to his feet, disengaging Ali's pleading hands from him.

"We'll still be friends after this, right?" Enji grinned and messed up her hair playfully as his teammates and the Metropolis supporters roared for him.

"If you survive." Ali said in defeat when Enji brushed past her and leapt into the ring, raising his arms in a convivial embrace to the noise made just for him.

"And for the Glaciens, the highly regarded, the invincible, the King of Combat – let's welcome Vergil!"

The deafening shouts and whistles and wild applause that followed, drowned out Enji's own crowd and shook the walls like thunder. Enji stared at the spectators in apprehension, momentarily dissuaded by having his spotlight stolen, before turning to face the boy stepping into the ring across from him.

Enji took only a moment to measure him up before every nerve in his body was set on fire. He was eye level with his opponent – they had the same build. An even match. Too much of a match. Enji rubbed his eyes hard and blinked slowly, staring at the guy in blue in front of him.

Shit.

He could see his own thoughts reflected back at him in the other boy's face. Enji's daze was short lived, however, when the only thing that made logic in his mind surfaced. It was a demon. Some fucking shifter walking around with _his_ face. Why it was here, Enji didn't know, and he didn't care. Killing demons was what he did best. This was going to be sweet.

Enji followed through with the usual procedures, tapping his padded red fists with his opponent's blue ones. It was meant as a gesture to say _I'm ready_. But today, Enji meant it as a message; _I'm going to destroy you_. The boy picked up on the vibe, and straightened up while taking a step back.

"Fight!" The ref hollered.

The boys circled one another, fists held ready. Enji dodged back and forth, waiting for the first blow to be thrown. It didn't come. The boy kept at bay, sidestepping and backing off. It wasn't hesitance – it was reluctance. Enji could see it in his eyes. He didn't want to fight.

The ref appeared between them in a blur of black, and a yellow card was waved at them both in turn. "Passivity! Passivity!" The ref shouted, "Now fight!"

Enji's mouth dropped open, his complaints residing silently in his head. Anger kicked in. He streaked forward abruptly and unleashed a tight combo of power punches in his opponent's mid-section before dodging out of reach again. He'd caught the boy off guard, but only for a second.

Vergil's lips quirked into an arrogant smile. He recovered from the blows quickly, and smoothly ducked out of the way when Enji threw a sharp spinning back fist at him. He thrust a left jab, but Vergil moved fast and avoided the blow. He kept Enji at bay with long kicks, displaying an aerobic endurance of someone well conditioned to fight. His technique was sharp, and nearly as unpredictable as Enji's own.

Enji countered Vergil's left hook with a kick, and came back with a punch that landed hard against his neck. For a moment they were right up in each other's faces, clenching onto one another.

"C'mon, you poser. Show me why they call you the King." Enji snarled in his face and broke away from the boy with a knee strike into his chest, when he saw the ref get ready to call out another penalty.

Something in Vergil's expression changed.  
Enji was too slow to dodge the jump spinning heel kick and Vergil's foot painfully connected with the side of his face. Enji stumbled but caught himself, blinking in dazed surprise, before retaliating with a straight-on, brutal front kick that sent Vergil staggering. He was deceptively quick, though, and had recovered before Enji could take another breath. Vergil delivered a good uppercut, but Enji stood solid against the blow with a mocking, stony expression that portrayed a silent '_is that all you've got?_' taunt. He blocked a right punch from Vergil before executing an inside leg kick that would have had any guy flat on the floor. Vergil barely flinched. They exchanged a series of body shots in succession, with enough force to convince Enji he had a few cracked ribs by the end of it - and that Vergil was no better off than him. Equal power, equal speed, equal resilience. Fuck, it was nightmare.

Enji let out an audible breath of relief when the bell screamed to end the match. He froze when Vergil held his fist out to him. Normally Enji would butt his fist against his opponents', a sign of respect and no hard feelings, but he didn't this time. He gave his fist one look, and stepped away from Vergil warily. The ref took position in between them, and they waited quietly to hear the score. Enji's eyes didn't leave Vergil.

It was a tie. Enji nearly lost control of himself when Vergil started to back away from him. He advanced on the other boy, and drew up short against the burly ref.

"Get to your team, son." He grumbled in a no-nonsense voice.

Enji watched with furious eyes when Vergil stepped out of the ring and joined his team.

"Enji! Get over here!" Ali's voice cut above the din of the crowd.

He turned his head in the direction of her voice, and strolled toward her. He didn't stop – he grabbed hold of her shoulder and steered her past his team, and right past the bleachers before hurling her into the locker room. "What the hell is going on here!"

"Damn it, Enji, I told you to leave." Ali said defiantly, jerking out of his reach.

"Who is he?" Enji demanded.

"My _brother_, I told..."

"Don't screw with me, Ali! What is it? Is he a demon – a shifter?" Enji growled.

Ali backed up against the wall, pale and trembling. "What, you mean like Trish? No. He's no more devil than you are."

"Why does he have my fucking face?" Enji thundered.

"He's your twin, stupid." Ali shot back, and sobered up when Enji stepped away from her abruptly. "Shit, Enji, I'm sorry... you weren't supposed to find out about him, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Enji asked curtly.

"Because mom and dad... because it will be dangerous... because Vergil had to... " Ali's eyes lit up suddenly. "Ask _him_! He can tell you."

"I'm asking you." Enji prodded her in the stomach angrily. "Why didn't you tell me your brother was my understudy? You had plenty of chances to."

"Are you kidding? Enji, _I'm_ not even supposed to be in the same city as you, least of all be friends with you." Ali protested weakly. "We're not supposed to exist."

"Does Dante know about him?" Enji asked. His eyes narrowed to slits when Ali blanched. When she didn't answer, Enji thought he was going to tear down the walls. "He _knows_?"

"It's complicated." Ali shifted uneasily. "He doesn't know Vergil is alive."

"What-" Enji broke off, and pressed his palms to his eyes. "Fuck. Ali, what the hell is going on?"

"Enji, just walk away from this. You can turn around and just walk away from this now." Ali pleaded. "If you don't, he'll track us down. He'll track us through you, through Dante, and he'll kill us all."

"Who are you talking about?"

"The Devil." Ali hissed.

"Right." Enji said dubiously. "And he'll want to kill you why?"

"Because he wants us all dead, dipshit. Because of Sparda. You know how the story goes, don't you?"

Enji gave her a deadly look. "The fairy tale?"

"Sparda is real. Where do you think Dante got the sword from, a hobby shop?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Enji said.

"Did he ever tell you he's the son of Sparda?" Ali licked her lips.

"No. Demons call him that a lot, though." Enji said, and shook his head. "Wait, what the hell does Sparda have to do with me having a twin?"

"Well... he's my dad." Ali said uncomfortably.

"Ah-huh. That would make Dante my brother too, then wouldn't it?"

"No. Not really." Ali cringed. "You're not actually related to Dante."

"And you need to start making fucking sense before I slug you."

"Well I told you it's complicated!"Ali wailed. "Nobody knows who you really are except for us, and we're not telling anyone. If we slip up, everything Vergil has done will go to shit. Everyone thinks you're Dante's son, possibly even Nero's. They think you're the fallen knight that will rise again, from the prophecies. That's why they've been trying to kill you. The Devil is coming, and we don't know when, but when he does all hell is going to break loose on earth."

"I never heard anything more retarded in my life. If I'm not this fallen knight, then who is?"

"I can't tell you, idiot."

"I have a right to know who's ass I'm risking my life for."

"Enji, stop it."

"No, Ali, you're telling me that I've been used as a decoy to distract demons, so that you and your wanna-be-cool brother and your legendary father can all have a happy, demon-free life. Right?" Enji slammed his fist into the wall.

"We had to separate you at birth, break all ties before there could be any, or else it would have just been like history repeating itself! The only person in this world strong enough and competent enough to keep you safe is Dante." Ali shouted back. "It wasn't by choice, we did what we had to. Vergil didn't want this, he didn't plan for things to go awry. It wasn't supposed to be like _this_."

"Oh. Well, pity. He kinda fucked up, didn't he?" Enji shot back.

"It's not his fault! You don't know what he had to go..." Ali paused suddenly, breathing hard, and tried to gather her composure. "You're not getting back in that ring, Enji. Vergil doesn't deserve to meet you under these circumstances. He went through a lot for you."

"Auw, I'm touched," Enji made a mocking bow. "I hate to break it to you, Ali, but I'm going to finish this fight and win."

"Vergil doesn't like to lose, but he doesn't want to hurt you, Enji." Ali said, and slapped him. "You're not going to fight him!"


	10. WDILY: Mah head! :(

I was late.  
By two whole days, kind of late. I'd been preoccupied exploring the palace gardens, wandering the coast by horseback, dining out in the palace food court, visiting the historical museum, watching movies in the palace cinema...you get the idea. I even made friends with my next door neighbours - the couple in the luxury room on my left were a comedic bunch, and the older guy who looked something like a war veteran in the King suite on my right had a certain charm about him. I stayed out really late, didn't get in until the morning hours, and then I'd pass out for a couple of hours, if I were that lucky. Sparda still haunted my sleep.

And when I was awake, reality tormented me more. I couldn't stop thinking about what Dante had revealed; I couldn't get Vergil out of my head. I walked around with this unyielding traumatised terror in my chest all the time. I tried to keep myself so busy to try and not think about him, that I somehow, in my obsession, did forget him.

It only hit me with a sinking feeling when Silias opened my suite door, sometime past midnight, and I caught the last couple of echoing rings from the phone. I chirped a 'thanks' to him and rushed inside, only to stop and stare at the suddenly silent phone. The only person who had ever rung me here was Dante.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at what the consequence could be. The last thing I needed was to give Vergil a reason to come looking for me. I jumped on the laptop and scrambled to find the notepad with my details on it. I typed it in with shaking fingers, cursing at myself for freaking out like this.

Strangely enough, there was only one new mail in my inbox. I opened it, and clicked on the link Vergil had sent me - according to the log - two days ago. A chat window opened with a box prompting me for a username. I copied my details into it and the screen went white.

A second later, a whole page worth of conversation materialised with **evanscora has joined the chat** right at the bottom.

I scanned through the wall of text - the gist of it was that we lay low for a while longer, that Vergil had found himself in a bit of a pickle when the hunter demons attacked, and the last bit of text stated that the two of them will meet up in an hour. The last message was a day old. I sat back and stared at the screen nervously, and nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang again.

I bolted for it and snatched it up with a racing heart. "Dante?"

"What happened?" He sounded angry.

"I forgot!"

"Really?!"

I sank down onto the edge of the sofa with a heavy sigh. "I-"

"Forget it."

The dial tone laughed into my ear and I fought back my tears. I hung up and gazed at the phone, hoping that he'd call back and knowing deep down that he wouldn't. Not any time soon, at least. I took a deep breath against the riptide of fear swirling inside my gut. I had to get away from everything. I couldn't physically do so, so I did the next best thing.

I threw my door open, fully intent on heading straight for the palace bar, when someone grabbed my arm and wrenched me back into my suite. I shrieked and whirled around to stare at the tall, lithe figure cloaked in black glowering down at me. Waves upon waves of some pungent scent I couldn't distinguish washed over me, nearly taking my breath away.

"Who are you?" I shouted at him in fright, and doubled back in shock that I'd actually said it out loud.

"C'mon, babe," he sneered at me in mild amusement. "It's just me."

"Yeah? Who's 'me', huh? How did you get here so fast?" I demanded, still back tracking from him.

Dante brought a mobile phone from his pocket and cocked an eyebrow at me incredulously. "You should have figured that I'd come looking for you when you didn't make the meet-up."

I glanced from him to the phone he was holding out to me, and carefully slipped it into my own pocket. "How long have you been here?"

I watched him close the door and lock it with a firm motion. "Long enough to figure out a few things," he said and wandered into the bedroom.

I stopped in the doorway and watched him circle the room with slow, exaggerated stride before he finally spun on his heel and flopped down onto the bed. I spotted Rebellion leaning up against the wall in the corner. I eyed the black coat he donned and cautiously walked over to him.

"What's with the new style?" I asked uncertainly, pulling the hood down to reveal the almost dazzling white-silver of his hair. It was almost funny, the reaction his appearance created inside of me, when I haven't seen him in a while. My first instinct was always to back away from him; the only reason I never ran was because my heart distracted me with its loop-di-loops.

"Laying low, remember?" Dante murmured as I dragged my fingers through the thick, soft mass of hair. He caught my wrist suddenly and pulled me down to sit beside him.

"Is that why you smell like moldy potatoes?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at him.

**Huuuuhahahahaha. Moldy potatoes, huh?**

"Maybe I smell bad to you but at least I don't have to worry about demons picking up my scent. Speaking of," Dante said and leaned back onto his elbows, squinting at the wall. "You need to be more careful. The guy next door is a demon. So is the douchebag who keeps stalking you."

"You mean Silias? He's my butler. It's his job."

"To 'ler' at your butt?" Dante sniffed.

**Hehehehehehe.**

"You're so lame it's not even funny anymore," I said, shaking my head and looking at the wall, too.

**Whatever, that WAS funny.**

"Still, you have to wonder who he's really working for."

"You think it's not safe here?"

His eyes were piercing and pale when he studied me for a second. "Nah, you'll be okay now that I'm here."

"My hero, always saving me."

"My troublemaker, causing havoc wherever she goes."

"You can't say you don't like the havoc. You're always coming back for more."

"Only when I feel like it."

"Charming, Dante."

"Aren't I?" he flashed me a grin.

We both stared at the wall for another long moment.

"We need a plan of action."

"I say we wing it," Dante replied.

I pulled a face at him. "Are we even talking about the same thing here?"

"Yeah," Dante said and looked at me funny. "Sparda, right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, and scowled at him. "What do you mean we wing it? We can't just go barging into the underworld without a plan."

"Why not? I've done it plenty times. So have you."

"When I was a _demon_."

***sniffffffff***

"That does not mean you don't have the experience and skill anymore."

I shifted myself sideways to look at him squarely. "I prefer we have a plan in place."

"Alright, let's hear it," Dante said, lying flat on his back and crossing his arms over his face.

"I say we go back to Prosperity and Metropolis and find anyone willing to put an end to these demons. We'll get other devil hunters in on it, too."

"Good luck with that."

**Okay can we just wind back for a second here?**

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not a people person."

"You're not being very helpful, Dante."

**Helluuuuu, are you guys like seriously ignoring me?**

"Alright," Dante huffed and sat himself back up. "So let's say we get a little league together, then what?"

"Then we make plans to go get Sparda."

** You can't ignore me, I'm the writer.**

"So we'll be no better off than we are right now, only we'll have a bunch of other people to contend with as well?"

**Okay I'm totally going to bulldoze this effin fourth wall right now. **

"What fourth wall?" Dante sighed impatiently.

**The one some other writer made me aware of. You know, the metaphorical 'wall' that separates the character from the audience/writer.**

"Like I said, what fourth wall? You've never had one of those," Dante said.

**...tragic. No writer should have a fourth wall. It's way more fun this way.**

"So what's the problem?" Cora asked nervously.

**Did you see what I did there? BAM, third person narrative - like magic! I bet you didn't even notice.**

"Well you can't talk to yourself in first person if you're writing your insert in first person," Dante pointed out.

**She's not a self-insert...**

"Again, I'll ask, what is the problem?" Cora interrupted.

**Something is missing. It took me three weeks to get back to working on this chapter because something wasn't working in it, and now that I'm finally getting back into it, it's just...something is off.**

"I thought Dante smelled funny."

**Well I wouldn't know. Why would he suddenly have to drown himself in stinky cologne or magic potion or whatever the hell he's meant to have used, when earlier in the story he was able to follow you without you detecting his scent?**

"You'll need to be more specific - which scene are we talking about?"

**Ugh, like it matters? When he was hunting you down right at the beginning. You're full demon, you should have sensed him or smelled him but you didn't. So if he's got stealth on his side, there should be no need for the potato smell OR the black coat. Right? I don't even know what the hell moldy potatoes smell like.**

"Really?" Cora asked, surprised. "Why'd you write it then?"

**I was being descriptive! Plus I was hoping it would put you off from getting kinky and shit. **

"It all makes sense now."

**Shut up!**

"Is that the only issue with this chapter?" Dante asked, rubbing his sleep irately.

**No. Vergil won't let me work on it any more than I already have.**

"Well what the hell is_ his_ problem?" Dante demanded.

**Err...you making him out to be an asshat? And me stupidly following your lead and writing the entire effin scene at the bottom of this chapter. Like. Gimme back my reigns, Dante. You suck at plot twists.**

"Hey, I didn't force you to follow my lead," Dante said.

**Ugh, don't mess around, you knew I would. Like you knew I would hit a block after writing the entire Vergil scene. Like you knew I would bring you in earlier because that usually works to get the plot going. The only thing you were wrong about was that I was going to let you score. You knew I'd catch on.**

Dante pursed his lips and shrugged. "I'm only upholding my part of the contract. You ought to do the same."

**No, you're NOT, Dante. You sabotaged my view of Vergil, hence you hampered the flow of the story and stilted the writing, therefore you have not honoured your part of the contract and therefore I will not honour mine either.**

"But- you need me!"

**Oh yeh babeh *perve face***

"Stop that," Dante scolded angrily.

**I can't help myself. Well, look. I reread the entire sequel and Vergil just isn't that much of an asshole. I mean he is, just...not as demented as he was before.**

"So you're gonna make me out a liar, is that it?"

**No, I'll just...make it like you were not on the same page as he is. Obviously. Have him put things back in order...**

"I thought you wanted me and Cora to end up together?"

**Oh, phu-lease, she can't have you. You both know that very well.**

"You mean I'm going to end up with Vergil?" Cora asked, confused.

**What am I, a walking-talking spoiler? I'm not telling anyone until the end.**

"You don't still have the Grug ending planned out, do you?" Dante asked hesitantly.

**Hmmm, I dunno. Maybe. I guess it depends on what mood I'm in on the day. I'm having second thoughts. **

...

I hit the palace bar. My neighbour was there too and I plunked myself down on the stool beside him. I kept forgetting his name, so all I said to him was, 'hey'.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, distractedly staring down into his drink.

"Hm," I mumbled, not sure whether he was trying to joke or not. He didn't seem the kind to have much of a humour on him. At any rate, he looked zoned out.

Maybe he'd been at the bar a fair amount longer. He looked pensive, though. I nodded at his personal butler in acknowledgement, not wanting to seem rude, and did a double take in surprise. "Nice sword." This caught my neighbours' attention and his grey eyes moved to meet mine. I looked at him, back at the katana that his butler had girdled to his hip, and back at him. "I didn't know one could push the boundaries in this place based off how much money you have. Generally people aren't allowed to bring hazards into places like this."

He cracked a small smile. "I've not been reprimanded about it as of yet."

"Do they have a swordsmith on the island?" I asked curiously, accepting the glass of brandy from the bartender and turning to look at the sword again. "I mean, is it new?"

"You could say that."

I eyed him curiously when he didn't go on, and shrugged. He watched me with equal interest, and finally looked away when I sipped at my drink instead. We sat in silence until I thought I'd had my fill, and I left with a polite 'good night'. He responded with raising his own glass in a toast. Silias was helpful as far as getting me to my suite without face-planting, and then I crashed on the sofa.

~...~

The first thing I knew, before the dark tendrils of the netherworld spat me out, was that I was cold. Not just cold; it was a sensation akin to what I'd endured during my exorcism. Ice crawled beneath my skin, and my muscles were sore from tremors I hadn't realised I'd been having. I grit my teeth and tried to control my trembling as I slowly woke up. The room seemed to be slightly tipsy, the sunlight pouring in too bright.

I sat up with effort, and noticed someone sitting on the other end. I recoiled from the sofa so fast that I barely had the mind to process what I was doing. I slipped on the marble floor and slammed my spine into it a second later. The impact chased spikes of pain up my back and I let out a startled cry. The other occupant had risen to his feet and was beside me in the blink of an eye.

"Are you alright?"

"How did you get in here?" I gasped out, using the wall for support as I got back onto my feet.

He was dressed all in black - black shirt with the sleeves pushed up, black vest open over it, black jeans, black boots - and his frost-white hair was windblown, like he had just stepped inside from a blizzard. I scanned the room frantically, but there were no devil arms in sight, which in and of itself was bizarre.

"You left your balcony door open," he said, furrowing a brow at me. "Do I smell alcohol on you?"

"How long have you been here?" I asked, shaking my head at him.

"Don't change the subject. You're supposed to be laying low, Cora, not living it up."

I blinked back up at him dazedly, and flinched away when he tapped my cast.

"And why is this thing still on? You need to get it off."

"Oh, so you're a doctor now?" I retorted weakly.

He gave me a look that made me cringe. "I thought you can take care of yourself."

"I can," I muttered, and watched him pace the room restlessly.

"I knew I should have come sooner," he grumbled. He spun around and gestured to me angrily. "You can't even keep a simple date."

I scowled back at him and then down at the floor. "I got a little sidetracked whatnot with..." I trailed off and stopped. I watched him for another minute. Was it a coincidence that just last night my neighbour mysteriously obtained a katana, and today I had one of the sons of Sparda on my doorstep - without his katana?

Then why was he sending me vibes that reminded me of Dante? And why the hell did the old guy next door have Vergil's sword? I couldn't even begin to fathom how that happened. Or was this paranoia taking hold? I've been on edge for weeks now. Dante would not be impressed if I accused him of being Vergil.

"With?" he'd turned to look at me, confused.

I pursed my lips and shrugged. "All the things we've been talking about over the phone," I lied. "It just slipped my mind because we'd been talking earlier that day and..." I shrugged again. "Sorry I missed it."

His eyes bored into me for a long, quiet moment, and then, "Well let's go see if we can find a medical room so we can have your cast taken off."

My heart was doing sickening thuds against my ribs when he took hold of my hand and we left my suite. Dante would have made some witty remark about my blatant lie, wouldn't he? Or was he too pissed off to even bother setting my fears at ease?

I was too scared to resist him - just incase I had it wrong and he _was_ Vergil - and followed his lead blindly.  
Two hours later we were sitting in the palace food court, eating breakfast, my cast gone and my arm feeling really weird, when he broached the subject of using resistance training to build up muscle in my arm.

"What for?" I asked, pausing with a piece of toast in mid-air to eye him worriedly.

"What do you mean what for? We are being hunted. You'd stand a slightly better chance at defending yourself with two arms," Dante said impatiently.

"Speaking of arms," I said, and licked my lips, "Where are_ your_ devil arms, Dante?"

A small smile crossed his lips suddenly and he leaned back in his chair. "In the shop for repairs."

I frowned at him, confused. "What?"

His smile disappeared and he sighed, "I'm not completely unarmed. I let Vergil borrow Rebellion."

"Why?"

"He lost Yamato in the attack. He needs something to protect himself with."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and straightened up when he brandished Ebony and Ivory from out of nowhere, twirled them expertly in his hands, and then hid them on his body once more. He looked at me pointedly, and I squirmed under his gaze. There was no doubt that this was Dante; he'd never part with his guns, and Vergil was more of swordsman than a gunslinger, anyway.

"How did he lose Yamato?" I asked, relaxing into my own seat.

He smiled again. "Who knows? He didn't tell me." He leaned over the table and caught hold of my hand, and straightened my arm out on the table.

For a second I had a flashback - I was on my knees in a shadowed backstreet, and Vergil was holding my hand - in the exact same hold as Dante was.

"Did I hurt you?" Dante asked hesitantly.

I wrinkled my nose when I realised I must have shown some expression of pain at the memory. "No, it's fine. It feels really weird."

He flattened my arm on the table and lifted my hand, twisting my wrist up slowly. Then he pushed my hand down against the table gently. I watched him do it a couple more times before I caught the way he was watching me.

"Do this a few times, as often as you remember to. Clenching your fist will help, too."

"Right," I said when he let go, and I pulled my arm back to me securely.

I finished my breakfast and ordered another coffee to go. "You're quiet," I remarked as we waited for my order at the counter.

"I like quiet," he said with a shrug.

"Hmm. Want to take a walk with me?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Why?" I demanded.

"I'm tired," Dante bit back. "You had me worried out of my head when you didn't make the meeting, and then I couldn't reach you on the phone either. I haven't slept in over 48 hours. Give me a break!"

"Okay," I said softly, waving him down. "Geez, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't."

"Well, here's the room key," I said, fishing the access card out of my pocket and holding it out to him.

He made to take the card from me, then thought better of it, and gripped my hand instead. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. You're coming with me."

"Yes, sir," I grumbled as he led the way back, half-dragging me behind him.

**I'm totally scrapping this half. If not the entire chapter. I may even start afresh. Vergil, don't hate me. Dante made me do it.**

"..."

**Use your words, please. The dot dot dot makes me anxious.**

"When are we getting started?"

**Like right now.**


	11. FSC: Claire crashes the party

**The first five paragraphs/lines of this story has been festering in my document list for quite a while now. **

**I miss writing Enji and Dante, but the weather is good today and I want to go hit the beach, so naturally I decided to pull them out of their world and into mine. **

**This has no point other than wanting to write. I'm not getting back to FSC just yet as I'm wrapping up WDILY and then I'm going to be collabing with Rebel to finish the Order of Sparda. **

**But like I said. I miss Enji, and I miss this Dante. They bring back good memories of good times.**

**Muse: Water Verve - Mark Van Dale & Enrico. Ahhh. Old school. Fudge yeah, bring on nostalgia. :3**

* * *

A voluptuous figure materialized from the murky alley wall ahead of him. Dante slowed his pace and came to a halt beside the golden haired demoness before he half-turned around. The teenager was already gone - so were Kyrie and Nero. He let out a disgruntled sigh and rubbed his fingers down his forehead.

"I hope you didn't bank on going on this mission alone," Trish said coyly.

"I was kinda hoping you'd stick around to keep an eye on the kids," Dante admitted.

"Enji can take care of himself. I raised him that way."

"I raised him, too," Dante said, turning to her with a scowl across his face.

Music blasted from down the street; the sweet, quick strokes of a violin echoing into the dark, stormy sky, accompanied with a fast, deep, and catchy beat. Dante and Trish exchanged a puzzled look.

"Is that-?"

"That loud? I don't think so," Dante cut her off with a shake of his head. He took a step back toward the main road as the beat picked up right along with the volume. Strong gale winds seemed to abruptly coil and weave around him. With every step, the ominous clouds above him seemed to lighten and pull away, revealing a clear blue sky.

Dante took the phenomena in with icy blue eyes, looking from the sky, down the road to where he presumed the music was emanating, and back at Trish who had sauntered up behind him.

"Isn't it supposed to be night time?" Trish asked in surprised tones, gazing up at the sky.

"I thought so," Dante shrugged.

"Well, I guess we need to get to the bottom of this before we go any further," Trish said.

"Hang on," Dante crossed his arms when she moved past him, and surveyed the weather for another moment before lifting his shoulders. 'Don't bother."

"Don't bother?" Trish repeated, confused, and looked back down the road.

Dante joined her side just as the door to Nero's place flew open and a petite red head girl appeared, pulling an exasperated Enji behind her. Nero tagged on behind them, partially amused and partially confused. He cast a glance back and spotted Dante, and coaxed him over with a nod of his head.

"Well," Dante sighed. "Come on."

Together the pair strolled down the road, and Nero fell in stride when Dante continued right past him.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"Don't know," Dante shrugged. "Just go with it, kid."

"Does she do this often?" Nero squinted after the girl and Enji.

"You'll get used to it," Dante said reassuringly.

"Who are we talking about? That girl over there?" Trish asked, puzzled, watching as Enji simply let the girl drag him along.

"That's Claire," Dante nodded.

"Oh. The evasive writer," Trish sighed.

"That's not how I'd describe her," Dante arched an eyebrow.

"She never talks to me at any rate. She avoids me, I think."

"Don't feel too hard done by. She doesn't talk to Lady or Kyrie either."

"Hey, shorty!" Nero cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered. Claire and Enji stopped in their tracks and turned to face them.

"Who're you calling shorty?" Claire hollered back irately.

"Where the hell are we going?" Nero shouted.

"To the beach!"

Nero sighed, annoyed. "Why?!"

"Because it's good weather!"

"It wasn't good weather two seconds ago!"

Claire let go of Enji and stomped up to them, determination set on her face. "Well, gee, I guess you can stay in this hellhole then, Nero. You, on the other hand..." Claire caught hold of Dante's hand and unceremoniously pulled him after her. "Are going to come with me. There's strawberry sundaes in the pipeline for all of us."

"Hey, I'm not questioning that," Dante cajoled.

"I didn't think you would. It's more incentive for Enji," Claire said, flashing a grin up at Enji as she linked her arm firmly through his on their way.

"I'll get used to this, right?" Enji asked, casting a helpless glance at Dante.

"She turns up the incentives the older you get," Dante said with a wink.

Enji puckered his lips together and cocked an eyebrow at Claire. "I approve."


	12. WDILY: author strike

**I know why I'm having issues writing the final chapters for WDILY.  
Because it's the final chapters. Then that's it. Finito. No moar. First proper fanfic in the DMC fandom I'll actually complete.  
And I really, really, really don't do well with parting with my projects. Even the really crappy ones. Especially the crappy ones.  
**

**For anyone who doesn't know who Mikael is: go read Mitis Forest.**

**References in this skit:**

**Why Do I Love You (with a couple of spoilers)  
Aspirations of a Hero  
Our Resolution  
Dante vs The World  
I Hate Everything About You  
A Futile Second Chance**

* * *

We were alone.  
It was darker than night around us. His eyes glowed like two streaks of magma. He wasn't screaming. The walls around us moved with every breath the beast took. This nightmare was different; drastically, terrifyingly different. Too vivid. I felt the slimy, soft and lumpy contents beneath my feet, and smelled the acidity of the stomach fluids sloshing around my ankles. It was different this time because he knew I was there. I wanted to say his name, but fear held me mute._ I'm sorry. I'm going to fix this. I never meant for this._

He took a deep sniff, and slowly exhaled. "Berries..." he mumbled. "... could always smell you coming from miles away."

Is this real? How was this possible? He couldn't smell me, could he?

"What happened to you?"

Whatever chains had been in place before seemed to have disappeared, because a large flash of light illuminated the confined space and a gaping wound appeared in the breathing wall. Sparda pushed through the hole he'd created and narrowed his gaze haughtily at Claire. The look on her face was one of impatience and she looked back at him with a fierce challenge.

"I see you've become better at ninja-training," Sparda remarked, keeping his distance. Claire was known for glomp-attacking him.

"Where're you going, Sparda-kun?" she asked, matching his steps as he made a B-line for the exit.

"Eva," Sparda grumbled back.

"You _know_ you can't do that," Claire drawled. "She's coming. Just be patient."

"What would you know of patience?" Sparda said incredulously. "I've been waiting for mont-"

"I know! What, you think I'd rather be stuck writing whatsherface?" Claire snapped, pointing back toward the organism that had held him captive.

"It would appear that way," Sparda huffed.

"Don't give me trouble. Come on! It's like you're all ganging up on me. First Dante breaches our contract, now you're trying to run away..."

"You know why," Sparda cut in.

Claire scuffed at the ground and hung her head in defeat. "I couldn't leave it on a cliffhanger."

"You could have done without the cliffhanger. We wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for your lack of backbone."

"My backbone is intact, I promise you that," Claire sniffed and paused mid-way between Sparda and the prison behind her.

Sparda flung open a portal that looked like a floating pool of gasoline with light playing across its surface.

"If I don't follow you, you'll have to come back here," Claire said pointedly.

"If I don't come back, you'll have to come find me," Sparda retorted.

Claire stood uncertainly, perplexed, and then firmly planted her butt onto the floor. Sparda turned around proper to watch her, surprised.

"Are you just going to sit there?"

"I am officially going on an author strike."

"You can't do that. We'll never get anywhere!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we were already going nowhere fast!" Claire shot back.

Claire dropped her head into her hands when a figure in red stepped through the portal beside Sparda. The two men seized one another up briefly.

"So! This is where she's been hiding you, huh?" Dante said, looking around in amusement.

"Hiding me?" Sparda repeated, looking at Claire disapprovingly. Claire, in response, covered her ears with her hands stubbornly.

"What's her problem?" Dante asked, eyeing her for a second before putting his hands up. "Never mind, I don't wanna know."

"I'm done here," Sparda said under his breath and gave Dante an assessing glance. "I do believe we have run our course with Claire. She's...not quite herself."

The two devils exchanged a look before turning to her. Claire blinked back at them, and promptly scooted on her rump until her back was facing them. "I hate you guys!" she snapped over her shoulder.

"Drama. Always drama," Sparda sighed heavily.

"Hey, shortshit," Dante crouched down beside Claire and nudged her in annoyance. "Will you get back to work so you can write me again, already?"

"Don't feel like it," Claire mumbled, glaring at the ground, and gave him an angry scowl. "Go away."

Dante let out a breath and sat down beside her. "And if I gave you bubblegum ice cream?"

"I can't hear you," Claire spat, making a show of cupping her hands over her ears. She scooted a few inches away from him, then turned her back on him again.

"What if I let you do another nude skit?" Dante asked, popping up over her shoulder. "I'll be more cooperative this time. And I'll shut up about you being married."

Claire sniffed and glared at him before pulling her knees up to her chest and hiding her face in it._ "Go away, Dante."_

"I suppose we do have a real problem on our hands," Sparda said remorsefully, towering over them with folded arms. "It's not still the self-insert complex, is it?"

Dante shrugged. "I thought she got over that already."

"Maybe if we got Eva in here... she might be able to talk some sense into her," Sparda said contemplatively.

As if on cue, Eva came in through the portal. Her face lit up at the sight of Sparda, and he smiled in turn.

"Ah-ha," Sparda said quietly. "So she's not really on a strike."

"Shut up!" Claire yelled, scrambling up and stomping her foot, infuriated. "No! No, no, no, and no! I don't want to hear it. I can't do it! It's over! Go away!"

"Alright, what's up?" Dante demanded, irritated. "You've never had a tantrum like this before. What's going on?"

Claire glanced from Dante to where Sparda and Eva stood side by side, somehow linked into one another without so much as touching. Sparda shrugged sheepishly at her look.

"You're taking too long with this. I've told you before you need to pace it," Sparda said apologetically.

"I _am_ pacing it! I mean _hello_! Any idiot can tell the story has more momentum and direction than IHEAY did! Pacing _is not_ an issue!"

"Is it Cora?" Dante asked.

"No it's _not the fudgin' OC_! I told you this before, Dante!"

"I think you're lying," Dante said meaningfully and won an angry growling-shriek in response.

"I hate you! You all need to get out of my head. Go away! I'm not writing any more!" Claire said and crossed her arms furiously.

"Is this because I threatened to walk out?" Sparda asked, taken aback.

Claire gave him a sulking glare and plopped herself back down on the ground. "I'm not talking to you."

"Wait, you wanted to walk out on us?" Dante asked, turning to him accusingly.

Sparda's mouth dropped open and he glanced down at Eva, startled. "I only meant I'd rather be somewhere else...with someone else. I wasn't going to simply abandon her, although it wouldn't have come to this point if she'd just finished it already."

"It's not my fault it's dragging. I blame Cora," Claire said angrily.

"You can't blame Cora for everything," Dante snapped a finger at her.

Claire huffed back up at him.

"If I got Enji in here, would you be more willing to get back to writing?" Dante asked.

"Go ahead, clutter my space. Throw a party. Bring out the pizza. I'm not budging."

Dante grunted. "How about Verg-"

"I'll kill you dead if you bring him into this," Claire interrupted hastily. "I'm taking a break from him for a bloody good reason. Drag him in here and I really will up and abandon this story."

"How about Nero?"

Claire's scowl softened and she shook her head feverishly. "You have a way of complicating things, you know that?"

"By trying to help you out?" Dante asked dubiously.

"Like dragging everyone in here is helping me? I think I need a coffee."

"Then I'll get you a coffee," Dante said. "Problem solved."

She let out a chuckle and shook her head at him, amused. "Maybe three years ago that would have worked. Why has it taken you three years to offer me a coffee?"

"Your definition of coffee is sometimes...not coffee," Dante said knowingly.

"Like I said," Claire said weakly, "I'm not budging."

"'Let's negotiate," Sparda offered.

"Yeah," Dante agreed.

"I don't-" Claire started.

"You could do your Grug ending and post it in here, if that will give you more motivation to write," Dante interrupted.

Claire's face fell. "I can only kill an OC so many times before it becomes redundant. I don't want to do the alternate ending anymore. I just... don't want to write anymore."

"And that's why you're writing right now?" Sparda asked.

"Well this isn't productive writing so it doesn't count."

The portal blurred as another tall, lean figure emerged; dressed in a blue and yellow school uniform, his black mop of hair wind-blown and his sharp, light ocean-blue eyes trained on his author.

"Shit, this guy again," Dante muttered, straightening up and stepping away from Claire.

Claire hugged her knees to her chest tightly and glared defiantly at the new muse. "Your hair is still black," she said flatly.

He stomped to a halt beside Dante and stared down at her in dismay. "Get up."

_"Not budging!"_

"Oh, italics? You must be really worked up," Mikael commented scathingly. "C, get off your arse and get back to work."

_"I don't wanna!"_

"Well you gotta!" Mikael echoed, and pulled her to her feet firmly. "You need to get over this."

"Easy for you to say. You just go on to the next project. I'm the one left dealing with the emotional side of things."

"All good things come to an end," Mikael said gently.

"It's not good, Mikael! And I want it to end, so I don't need to deal with the trauma anymore!"

"People like it, your opinion is invalid," Mikael tisked. "You need to let it go."

"I want to!"

"Then just do it."

"But I don't like endings!"

"And that is the problem, ladies and gentlemen," Mikael said with a shake of his head. He caught Claire's arm in a steel grip and started dragging her toward the sliced organism. "Here's a tip: why don't you stop thinking of it as the end?"

"Because if I don't, then some new curveball will come my way and-"

"I won't throw you any more of those, I swear," Mikael said, patting her on the head. "We need to wrap this monster up."

"But...but... I can't just..."

Mikael halted in his tracks suddenly and turned to the other characters present. He furrowed a brow at Eva, and gave Sparda a measuring look. "Are we back on track here or do I need to start breaking shit down?"

Sparda gave Eva a warm look before following their lead. Eva let out a soft, despondent sigh, and held her hand to Dante.

Dante hesitated for a minute, leveling his gaze with Mikael's. "Punk," Dante grumbled before yielding to Eva's coaxing.

"That guy wants a piece of me," Mikael said once the portal had closed behind Dante and Eva. He got hold of Claire again and propelled her toward the organism, into which Sparda had just disappeared. "Don't you_ ever_ let him get a piece of me, C."

"You know I wouldn't," Claire muttered before they, too, disappeared into the organism.


	13. WDILY: My Dante (3

**I hit a major block with the final chapter for WDILY. It's the action-packed climax. I'm pumped to work on it, but alas, my muse is not cooperating with me.**

_**However.**_

**Not all muses are imaginary. :)**

**This is a true story. Direct quotes (slightly manipulated for fiction purposes).**

* * *

"Are we going to be stuck here all night?" Vergil asked in badly concealed annoyance.

"Shut up!" Claire exploded and ran her hands through her hair, looking around the rift with equal annoyance. "I don't know how to get out of here!"

"Teleport," Cora suggested.

"Yeah? Where to?" Claire growled, scanning the many circles and highlights and notes she had made in her DMC2 novel before hurling the damn book against the wall in frustration. Fucking useless piece of-

"The plan was Capulet City, wasn't it?" Vergil demanded, pacing around the couch on which Claire and Cora were sitting.

"Yes, that was the plan, but it's not happening. It feels wrong. Like... stilted. Like it shouldn't be Capulet City," Claire sighed heavily and all but dropped her laptop onto the small coffee table before her.

"Does it really matter which city it is?"

Claire dropped her head onto the keyboard with an infuriated growl. "Where the hell is Mix when I need him?"

"I'm on my lunch break!" a faint shout emanated from somewhere beyond the rift.

"Damn it!" Claire muttered under her breath. A weight sank down beside her suddenly, and all eyes turned to the rugged and handsome stranger in sweatpants and hoodie who had joined them, uninvited and out of the blue. He tossed a packet of chocolate biscuits onto the table in front of her before munching down on one himself.

"It doesn't look like you're writing," he remarked, sounding just as annoyed as Vergil had earlier.

"That's because I'm stuck, John!" Claire snapped back. "It's not like I've enjoyed sitting here for the past hour staring at the screen!"

"What are you stuck with?" John asked. "Do you need ideas? I can help you with ideas."

"I have ideas-" Claire cut herself off when he grabbed her pen and pulled her notepad closer. John was as stubborn as Claire, you see, which had been cause for epic brawls in the past, until Claire learnt to pick her fights. "Alright. Fine."

"What are you stuck with?" he looked at her expectantly. Like she knew the friggin answer.

"Well I've got two characters in a rift, and I need to get them to an underground base."

"Okay. What's a rift?"

Vergil groaned and won a glare from Claire. "It's like pockets of another dimension floating around in the human world."

"So how did they get into the rift?"

"They teleported."

"Oh geeze."

"This isn't going to help us," Vergil said in dismay.

"Shut up. Teleporting comes in handy when I need it, okay?" Claire fired back defensively at them both. "They use magic to get into and out of these."

"So they're stuck," John said, furrowing a brow at her.

"No, they're _not stuck_. I just don't know how to get them from the rift to the base."

"Okay. So...maybe something happens to shake up the rift, something that shouldn't happen, and they teleport but they end up in a coliseum instead of where they're meant to be."

Claire watched, curiosity peaked, as he made a brief sketch in the notepad as he talked. "Uh-huh."

"And then...the coliseum is pretty big, too...," he expanded on the circular image, "...there's a vast desert all around them. And they have to find their way to the underground base, so maybe some big bad monster breaks its way out from underground... wait, are these two characters guys, right? There's no sword fighting involved, is there?" John asked, making a very inappropriate display of swinging and jabbing two fingers together.

Claire snorted in disapproval, and Vergil echoed her. "No, it's a guy and a chic."

"Oh," John said, surprised. "Well. Maybe they should stay stuck in the rift then?"

_"Seriously, that's not helping,_" Claire said, her face going very red very fast.

"Okay, sorry," Johnny deflated slightly. "This is a DMC story, right?"

"Yea," Claire said, shifting uneasily. "Never mind. I like the coliseum idea. Thanks for helping."

"You know I have a story about Dante and Eva," John offered.

Claire froze and gave him a helpless look. "I don't think I want to hear it."

"One day they got together and they made little Deva's."

"That's disgusting, John," Claire exploded into a fit of giggles. "Eva's his_ mom!_"

"Oh. Well._ That's_ awkward. I thought that was such a good idea."

"Well it's not."

"And then Eva had some butter," John said, winking at her.

"Not the butter thing._ Come on_!"

"She and Dante made sandwi-"

"You're terrible! If you're done helping me with ideas..."

"You know," John said, popping the last of his biscuit into his mouth and fixing her with a knowing look. "You were all hot for me the other day, until you sat down to write this story. Then you suddenly weren't. Should I read it and see what you've been up to?"

"I'll kill you in your sleep, I swear," Claire said helplessly.

"Okay, well how about layers?"

Claire let out her breath, exasperated. "Layers?"

"Yeah. When they teleport from the rift into the coliseum, there are some layers that they need to go through to get to the underground base," John said, adding some more oval shapes to his sketch and holding it up for her inspection. Obviously, he'd been playing Bloody Palace earlier, which wasn't a bad thing since it'd fit into the story. In theory, anyway.

"Why layers? So they can take them off?" Claire quipped.

"Ha...I like where your heads' at. See, this top layer is above the surface. I don't know how they'll get through them..."

_Please don't say with a sword_, Claire thought desperately. _The last thing she needed was jokes revolving around penetration._ "That's okay, I can figure that out."

"...but this second layer here is very slippery," John said, colouring in the second oval meaningfully.

_"No_," Claire choked out through a chuckle.

"Yeah. Eva must have gotten in there with her butter-"

"Okay, _you_ need to go. Go away, John. You've helped enough!"

"Whoa, that eager to get into it, huh?" John teased, dodging a punch from Claire and snatching up a chocolate biscuit from the table all in one move.

"Shut up. Just go play your Battlefield or something, man!"

"Glad to have been of service!" John gave a naughty chuckle before disappearing from the rift.

Claire sat with blazing cheeks for a good ten minutes.

"That...wasn't really Dante in disguise, was it?" Cora finally broke the awkward silence.

Claire arched her eyebrows and puckered her lips, staring blankly at the laptop before her. "I guess I should credit him accordingly for helping me with this last chapter."

"Was it?" Vergil demanded, looking in the direction where John had gone.

"Nope," Claire said after a minute and cracked a mischievous grin at him. "But I did base a lot of Dante's antics and dialogue off him in this story. You like?"

"That's disturbing."

"No more disturbing than you are," Claire sniffed and wrung her hands together. "Okay. Let's get to the finale."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I own John, body (mmm-mmm) and soul, forever and ever. So he's not a devil hunter and he's not blonde, but hot damnnnn.**


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